All at Once
by Aurilia
Summary: AU. Harry didn't go to Hogwarts, he went to Stonewall Secondary. His main goal in life was to leave the Dursleys' and go to college, until Remus Lupin finds him on his seventeenth birthday and his life changes all at once. See Ch 1 AN for more info.
1. Prologue and Ch 1

**Disclaimer:** HP et al belong to JKR et al. Don't sue. I own nothing of any importance and all you would get for your trouble would be a bunch of court costs.

**A/N: **BE FOREWARNED! This is an AU fic. This follows canon only to the point where Hagrid shows up in the shack on the rock in the sea, July 31, 1991 (for people who don't want to try to puzzle out that date, it's Harry's eleventh birthday, meaning that this tale diverges from canon in book one.) However, once the story gets going, elements of the books will surface. Also, as this is an AU tale, OC's will show up from time to time. There may or may not be references to SLASH, I haven't decided just yet. If any of these ideas bothers you, feel free to use that wonderful little back button on your browser; that's what it's there for. If you choose to ignore this warning and read onward, then decide to flame me, please note that the flames will be used to roast marshmallows. I do, however, enjoy hearing if I'm doing a good job and I rarely write chapters in advance, so if you have ideas you want to see show up in the story, drop me a line (this means to review.)

One last bit, this first posting will cover both the prologue and chapter one. They would have been posted separately, but the prologue is really short. It's likely throughout this tale that the chapters will vary in length considerably from one to another. If they're really short, though, they will either be posted together or in the same day.

* * *

**Prologue**

"Absolutely not! He's not going, and that is that!" Petunia was adamant.

"An' I'd like ter see muggles like yerselves try an' stop 'im." Hagrid replied.

Petunia took a deep breath, her nose pointed up at the massive man, "We are the boy's legal guardians; if we say he's not to go to that horrid place, he won't go. _And that is final_." She glared at the man and crossed her skinny arms over her bony chest.

Harry didn't know what to think. He'd been told time and time again that there was no such thing as magic. For all the large man before him was an impressive sight, he had thus far seen no evidence to support that this was anything more than a cruelly elaborate hoax - most likely concocted by Dudley; after all, the Dursleys had never denied the little pig anything else, why should this be any different?

Harry watched as the enormous man dug through several pockets in his shaggy coat, all the while glaring at Harry's aunt and uncle. He withdrew a long feather quill and a roll of parchment. He scribbled something down, folded the paper, and reached back into the coat. This time he pulled out a rather rumpled brown barn owl. "Take this ter Dumbledore, girl, an' be quick abou' it." All Harry could do was blink as the owl delicately took the folded-up parchment in her beak and flew out one of the glassless windows.

Several silent, strained hours later, the owl returned. The grey light of predawn cast everything in a gloomy grey light. Dudley snored, having fallen back asleep once the adults' conversation had petered out. Hagrid retrieved the note the owl carried, read it over, and scowled. He then turned to Harry with a grim smile. "Harry, Dumbledore says yer aunt 'as the law on 'er side, an' we can't force 'em ter let yeh go ter Hogwarts. But iffen yeh ever need us, all yeh need do is ask." His smile broadened at the bewildered and sleepy eleven-year-old.

Harry shook his head, _It's official. This is the weirdest day of my life.

* * *

_

**Chapter One: Years Later**

The years passed slowly for Harry. Wearing his 'elephant-skin' uniform, he attended Stonewall Secondary School. Though Dudley attended Smeltings, Piers Polkis remained Dudley's best friend and was more than happy to continue the crusade to keep Harry friendless. Harry didn't mind; it wasn't as if this was a new situation for him. Besides, how could he miss what he'd never had?

Harry spent most of his free time studying, mentally preparing for that blessed day he would finally be able to leave No. 4, Privit Drive firmly in his past. He excelled at mathematics and science, however his true talents lay in art and, ironically enough, his Living Skills class. The Living Skills class covered topics such as cooking, sewing, balancing a checkbook, and how to purchase a house or car. The most obvious result of this class was that Harry's uniforms started fitting much better during his second year than they had before. The Dursleys, as well, benefitted from the class; meals Harry made became more complicated and tastier as the years wore on.

On Harry's fifteenth birthday, Uncle Vernon demanded Harry obtain an after-school job to 'help pay for his upkeep.' Harry didn't bother arguing; if there was one thing he had learned from the Dursleys, it was that arguing inherently made life more difficult. Three days after the decree had been handed down, Harry found himself employed at Kellerman's Service Shop - a car-repair center.

During Harry's interview, Allen Kellerman - the owner - had asked Harry why he wanted to work. Harry had replied that his uncle wanted him to help with the bills. Allen had assumed that this meant Harry's family was rather poor and so had hired Harry on the spot. He hadn't wanted anyone to live through the hardships he had endured when he was Harry's age. His misconceptions were cleared up when Vernon arrived in his brand-new company car. He further learned of Harry's home life over the course of the next four days. His wife was more of a gossip than Petunia could ever hope to be, and the Kellermans lived only a couple of blocks from Harry's family, on Wisteria Walk.

After having spoken to Harry, not to mention having seen the results of the standard pre-employment criminal and background checks, Allen knew that the rumors of Harry's supposed delinquent status were nothing more than hogwash. He had the suspicion that the rumors had been started by Harry's family, but couldn't prove it. Allen decided that he would do all that was in his power to help the quiet and polite teenager whenever he could. It came as somewhat of a shock to Harry when, on his first payday, Allen handed Harry half of his pay in cash and the other half in check. Since Harry wasn't eighteen, he wouldn't be able to open a bank account without Vernon or Petunia co-signing. As he handed Harry his pay, he nodded at the teen and mentioned, "There's a small travel-safe under the front desk that never gets used. The combination is seven - five - one - nine.

Harry could only respond with a heartfelt, "Thank you, sir," understanding that Mr. Kellerman was allowing him a means of eventual escape from the Dursleys.

During the course of the following two years, Harry managed to save enough money to be able to attend a two-year vocational school, and if he managed to keep his grades up, he thought he might be able to get enough in supplemental scholarships to attend a real university. He had no idea what, exactly, he wanted to study; but that didn't stop him from wanting to further his education. His art teacher had suggested he might be able to get an art scholarship, if he applied to schools in the US. Harry felt rather partial to that idea. At least, it would get him as far as possible from the Dursleys' home.

During that same two-year period, Harry found himself virtually adopted by his boss and the three other men that worked at the shop. Allen and his wife had been unable to have children of their own and looked on Harry as the son they never had. Harry also had three unlikely older 'brothers' in his coworkers. Tim Marshfield was thirty-five and was something of a science nut. He belonged to a local amateur astronomy club, as well as the Model Airplane and Rocket Association. Mike Peterson was the youngest of the three mechanics, at twenty-four, and spent much of his spare time running around after his three-year-old daughter, or hiding from his petite wife. Nigel Smythwick was perhaps the oddest of the bunch, however. He absolutely refused to give anyone his age, always stating that he was 'old enough to know better, but still too young to care' whenever asked. He had an innate grasp of how things fit together and could tell what was wrong with a car just by listening to the sounds it made. He also built wooden furniture in his garage, selling it on the internet for quite a hefty sum.

During the summer Harry turned sixteen, Nigel showed up for work in a severely battered old pickup truck. He nicknamed it 'Viridian' for reasons he refused to disclose. Allen told Harry the next day that he was going to start spending half of each of his workdays working with the guys on Viridian. Harry shrugged, assuming that his boss wouldn't want him learning on a customer's vehicle. He didn't mind; he liked learning new things and was rapidly becoming bored in the monotony of the office paperwork. That summer, as further part of his training, Mike taught Harry how to drive. It was a tense situation for Harry. They were using Mike's car, and Harry really didn't want anything to happen to it while he was driving, and thus responsible for the car's safety. He never breathed easy until he was allowed to park it back at the shop. The really funny thing about it was that though Harry never put so much as a scratch on the car, Mike managed to clip a street sign during a particularly foggy night. It broke one of the headlights and made a rather impressive dent in the red metal.

Harry was the only one at the shop that was unaware that the truck they were training him on was going to be given to him as a graduation present, even though that lay two years in the future. Viridian _was_ a mess, after all. Almost everything needed replaced or repaired in some fashion. And Tim, as the only one of the four that had seen some of Harry's artwork, was keen on seeing if he could reproduce some it in a custom paint job, though that would be the last step.

Two weeks before Harry's seventeenth birthday, Harry found himself the first one at the shop. He unlocked the door to the office and had just turned the computer on when the phone rang. Harry jumped in surprise before he realized what had happened. He answered after the second ring, "Kellerman's Service Shop, Harry speaking."

"Hey Harry. This is Mike."

"Oh, hey Mike. Whacha need?"

"Allen in yet?"

Harry shook his head, then remembered that Mike wouldn't be able to see it. "Sorry. Not yet. You sick or something?"

Mike laughed a little, though the sound was more sarcastic than humorous. "You could say that. I tripped over one of Ashley's toys this morning and broke my bloody arm."

Harry grimaced, "Urg. I'll let Allen and the guys know you won't be in today."

"No, no. I'll be by, probably around three or four."

"You know, Mike, I somehow doubt you'll be getting much done if your arm's broken."

"I know. However, I still want everyone to sign my cast." There was a sigh. "And give Allen a bit of time to yell at me properly. You can't yell at someone properly over the phone."

"Too true." Harry chuckled. "See you later, then."

"Righto."

The call ended just as Allen walked in. "If that was Davies, did you tell him the Olds won't be ready for another three or four days? That damn filter is on back-order again..."

"No, it wasn't Davies. It was Mike. Wanted to let you know he probably won't be in today until afternoon. He said three or four."

Allen stowed his lunch in the small refrigerator in the corner of the office. "Did he mention why?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. He managed to trip over one of his daughter's toys and broke his arm."

Sighing, Allen let out a mirthless chuckle, "I always did suspect that small children were hazardous to one's health." Harry snorted in reply, before getting started on his work for the day.

When Mike showed up that afternoon, he told Allen that his doctor had told him he wasn't to work until the cast came off. Allen groaned at the revelation. "Six to eight weeks? You did this on purpose, didn't you? You _know_ the summer months are our busiest!"

Mike grinned at his boss, Harry had the random thought _At least we know his painkillers are working properly_. Mike spoke up before Harry could descend into the laughter he so wanted to, "Look on the bright side: We may be busier in the summer, but very little of it's body work. It's mainly tune-ups for folks going on vacation. It's not like winter, when every other car needs some sort of ding or dent patched up. I'm sure Harry'll be able to handle most everything. If there's something major, call me in and I'll personally supervise him. This just means that you need to hire a temp worker to fill in on office-duty until I can come back."

Allen conceded Mike's point, acknowledging it as a good idea, and placed an advertisement in the paper the following morning.

Harry's seventeenth birthday fell on a Thursday. This was good, because the shop closed early on Thursdays and Sundays. Of course, Vernon didn't know this. Petunia might have known, but if she did, she didn't say anything. As Mike wasn't working anyway, he set up reservations at a local pizza parlor for a party that afternoon. The guys from the shop knew Harry had never had a birthday party before and were determined to give him an afternoon to remember.

Oblivious to the planning around him, Harry went about his birthday just as he had in the past. He stayed up until midnight and wished himself a happy birthday with the comforting thought _Only 365 more days until I can leave this place forever._ He then fell asleep. He awoke that morning at seven o'clock, and went through his normal morning routine of a shower, shave, and getting dressed for the day. At seven-thirty, he started breakfast. The cooking food roused the rest of the household. By eight-fifteen, Vernon and Dudley had finished their meals and left for the drill company where Vernon had been promoted to senior vice-president and subsequently secured a summer internship for Dudley, further proving Harry's long-held belief that nepotism was the only way his cousin would _ever_ be employed.

Once they had left, Harry finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes. He hurried back upstairs and grabbed his coverall for work. Poking his head into the lounge on his way out the door, he told his aunt, "I'm not sure what time I'll be back this evening, aunt. We've been a bit busy since one of the guys broke his arm. If it's not too late, I'll make sure to mow the lawn tonight. If it is, I'll do so tomorrow morning." Harry had a vague notion to spend the afternoon at the library or to maybe go see a movie. Petunia just nodded to show she had heard Harry, not even bothering looking up from her crossword puzzle.

A half-hour walk later, Harry arrived at the shop, where he was greeted with a pair of cheerful 'Happy Birthday's' from Nigel and Tim. Harry smiled, "Thanks, guys. Where's Allen?"

Nigel shrugged, "In the office, I'd imagine. Oh, by the way, old Mrs. Figg left you a fifty-pound tip for the work you did on her old beater."

Tim let out a low whistle, "Christ, Harry, what did you do to earn a fifty-quid tip?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Harry, but Harry interrupted him before he could voice whatever filthy joke he'd intended.

"Don't even think it, Tim! She used to babysit me when I was little. She probably realized by birthday was coming up; or - and this is more likely - she mis-read the note and thought it was a five." Harry frowned, "In fact, I should stop by and ask her about it this afternoon after work."

Tim blinked before remembering that his young friend and de facto little brother wasn't used to random displays of affection. "You don't have to do that, Harry. I asked her about it when she was in yesterday, and you were right the first time. It's, and I quote, 'a birthday gift to make up for the ones I missed before.'" he pulled off a believable impression of Arabella Figg that had Harry giggling.

Harry shook his head and wandered to the office, letting his smile fade. _I should still ask her about it. She couldn't possibly have meant it to be so much!_ Harry opened the door to let Allen know he was there. Allen was sitting at the desk, speaking to an older, haggard-looking man. "Morning, boss."

"Happy birthday, Harry." Allen greeted Harry while the teen clocked in. "This is Lupin. Today, I want you to show him what to do with the computer and how to handle the paperwork. He's your replacement until Mike gets that damn cast off."

Harry nodded, "Sure thing. I'll be out front when you're ready."

Harry had just finished booting up the computer when the door to the office opened up, "It's good to have you aboard, Mr. Lupin. Harry here will make sure you know what you need to do." Allen shook the man's hand.

Lupin smiled, "Thanks again, Mr. Kellerman. This really means a lot to me."

"Don't mention it. And call me Allen, please. We're all rather informal around here."

Lupin nodded, "Of course."

Allen looked to Harry, "He's all yours, kiddo. I'm going to be working on the Anglia if you need me." Allen disappeared into the garage, leaving his two newest employees to get to know one another.

Harry offered his hand to the newbie, "Hey. I'm Harry Potter."

The man shook Harry's hand, his amber eyes flickering to the lightning-bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead. "Remus Lupin. Pleased to meet you."

Harry laughed. "You wouldn't happen to have a brother named Romulus, would you?"

Remus grinned, "No, sorry to disappoint. I was an only child."

"Well, shall we get to work?" Harry gestured to the computer.

"After you, mon ami."

"You're lucky we've been slow this week; there isn't that much paperwork to catch up on." Harry proceeded to show Remus his job duties.

At one o'clock, while Allen closed up the shop and Tim and Nigel took off, Harry turned off the computer. "And that's about all there is to it."

Remus chuckled. "Doesn't seem too difficult."

"It isn't." Allen said, putting the keys to the shop back in their hiding spot - a fake brick in the back wall of the building. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"The guys and me are all meeting up over at Carrington's for dinner tonight. You want to come? You, too, Remus."

"Eh, why not?" Harry shrugged, "What time?"

"Four."

Harry grinned, "I'll be there."

"And you, Remus?"

Remus nodded, "As I've nothing better to do, I may as well."

"See you there, then." Allen paused by his car. "Either of you need a ride anywhere?"

Harry shook his head as Remus replied, "No. Thank you, anyway, though. It's too nice a day not to take advantage of it."

"Alright. See you at Carrington's." Allen got into his car and pulled away.

Remus turned to Harry after checking his watch. "It looks like we've a few hours to kill."

"Seems so."

"Though it's been a while since I've been through these parts, I seem to recall a quiet little pub down the street. Care to see if it's still there?"

_Why is this always happening to me? I mean, I know I'm a bit smaller than average, but _why_ do men feel the need to hit on me all the time?_ Harry coughed to clear his throat, "Remus, I'm flattered, really, but you're not my type."

It took a moment for Harry's comment to sink in, but once it processed, Remus was overcome with howls of laughter. Once the laughter had calmed - which took a good few minutes - he looked up at Harry. Harry was standing a few meters down the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his chest and glaring at him. "Morgana's bootlaces, Harry! I haven't laughed like that in years!"

"Glad I could amuse," Harry dryly replied. "I take it I took your offer in a way it was not intended?"

Remus snorted and squashed the urge to break into laughter again. "Obviously. I just thought we could sit and chat for a bit, as neither of us has much else to do... At least, I assume not?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Pardon the assumption, it's just that some of the older guys in the area have been a bit off the mark about me. I apologize."

Remus waived his hand. "Don't worry about it. Quite a few people in the past have assumed similarly about myself."

"I guess that explains the laughter. I can see how it would be amusing, in an ironic sort of way."

"Of course. Shall we to the pub and a pint or two?"

"Lead onward."

Ensconced in a corner booth at O'Malley's Pub, Remus and Harry sat chatting over a couple of beers. Once Remus thought Harry'd had enough to listen to him - about two and a half pints - and he'd had enough to be willing to talk about what he had privately dubbed 'the topic of doom' - likewise about three pints - he took a deep breath and caught Harry's eye. Surprisingly, Harry, though slightly tipsy, managed to pick up on his companion's suddenly serious manner. "Harry, I did have an ulterior motive in talking with you today..." He trailed off, unsure, exactly, as to how to explain what he needed to, without alienating the teen before him.

He took a deep breath, deciding that the best way forward was the Gryffindor one. "I knew your parents, Harry, and I've been recruited - for lack of a better term - to bring you information about your inheritance."

Harry blinked, stunned. He shook his head, as if to clear it, once the information processed. "Inheritance? You're joking. My aunt and uncle may not be the best of people, but if I had an inheritance coming to me, I'm sure they would have mentioned _something_ by now. Either that, or found a way to get it for themselves."

Remus shook his head, "Ah, but you're assuming that they knew about it, or even wanted anything to do with it if they did know."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "How could they not know? And I doubt there's anything money-related that the Dursleys wouldn't want to be a part of."

"Money is only a small portion of it, Harry."

"But property, stocks, interests, and the like can all be sold, so just lump that all under 'money,' okay?"

"No, Harry, well..." Remus sighed, "there are some properties involved, but that's not what I'm talking about. There are some things that just can't be sold."

Harry snorted, "Almost anything can be sold, Remus. Just about the only thing that can't are hereditary titles of nobility - and I'm sure Petunia would have mentioned if I was set to inherit something like that."

Remus took a drink of his larger. "I'm beginning to see that I'm approaching this from the wrong angle. Let me try a different route. What do you remember about your eleventh birthday?"

Harry shrugged, "Not much. Why?"

"Humor me."

Harry drained his glass and cast his mind back over the years. "I remember that Uncle Vernon had been acting really odd all week and we ended up spending a couple of days away from the house. It all started because of some silly prank - Dudley had sent me a letter. But on my birthday, Vernon was fine. We came back to Privit Drive and life returned to normal."

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. This wasn't turning out at all like he'd hoped. "You don't remember Hagrid?" He chuckled a little, "I always thought he was rather a memorable bloke. How many men are that size and wander around wearing moleskin coats?"

A wisp of a memory tickled the back of Harry's mind. _Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts... Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry... Yer a wizard... He's not to go to that horrid place... We can't force 'em ter let yeh go..._ Harry jumped when Remus shook his shoulder. "Harry?"

Harry's eyes were rather glassy. "I thought it was a dream. I mean, Aunt Petunia said-"

"And _that_, dear Harry, is the heart of the matter."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "So it all comes down to my relatives." He scoffed and met Remus' gaze. "Why am I not surprised?"

Remus smiled, "Well, I've got good news, then. First things first, though, among our kind, you're a legal adult as of today. You don't have to go back to them if you don't want to."

Harry broke into a grin, "Really? Excellent. A full year ahead of schedule. You mentioned an inheritance?" Remus nodded. "Good. I assume there's a house in those properties you mentioned, as well as cash?"

Remus chuckled again, "Yes and yes."

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry. He looked at Remus suspiciously, his grin fading. "I trust you can prove you are who, and more importantly _what_, you claim?"

"Of course." He glanced at his wristwatch. "However, it is getting a bit late; we told your boss we would meet up with him. We can continue this conversation afterwards."

Harry shook his head. "Not likely. I've some things to do this evening back at the house. I need to get that out of the way first."

Remus finished off his own beer. "I know your - and I use the term loosely - _family_ wouldn't be too happy to see me; I also realize it would be difficult for you to sneak out; therefore, I propose something of a compromise. Do you have your own room at the Dursleys'?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. It's the smaller of the two bedrooms that face the front of the house. It's the upper left window, if you're looking at the house from the street. Should I make sure the window's unlocked for you?"

Remus smirked, "No need. Just be in your room at ten tonight and try not to yell if I show up suddenly."

"Will do." Harry stood up. "We should probably get going."

Remus nodded, "Of course."

They arrived at Carrington's at four-fifteen. Remus held the door for Harry, and Harry wandered into the small restaurant. His jaw dropped when he saw that his boss and coworkers had set up a little party for him. There was even a banner along one wall that read 'Happy Birthday, Harry!' Harry was a little choked up and had to clear his throat repeatedly before he could say anything. "Wow. Thanks, guys."

Mike grinned. "No problem, little brother. It was the least we could do."

Harry shook his head, "No, really, this is more than I expected."

"But no more than you deserve, kiddo." Allen grinned. "I'm glad you decided to come by. You were late enough the boys were starting to get a little worried. However, the pizza should be out, soon. You like sardines and pineapple, right?"

Harry's face screwed into an expression that clearly stated what he thought of _that_ combination. "Don't sweat it, Harry, he's pulling your chain." Nigel grinned. "Come on, presents, pizza, beer. What more could a guy ask for?" Nigel pulled Harry to a table where three shoddily wrapped gifts surrounded a much nicer wrapped gift.

"Well, you gonna open them, or just admire them?" Tim asked.

"Here," Mike shoved his gift in front of Harry, "open mine first."

Allen waived Remus over to the table, "Come on, Lupin. Wouldn't have invited you to just stand around and watch. Pull up a chair."

Harry tore through the wrapping paper, which appeared to be the comics section of the Sunday paper. "Couldn't get Amy to wrap it for you?"

"Nah, she didn't much approve of the gift in the first place." Mike tried to hide his smirk as Harry opened the box. Harry stared for a moment at what was inside before blushing and quickly replacing the lid.

"Ah, hell, Harry. It can't be that bad!" Tim said, reaching for the box. He opened it and started laughing. "Mike? You alright in the head? Somehow I don't think Harry here will _ever _use a hundred-quid pass to a strip club."

Remus laughed along with everyone else. "Go on, Harry. They can't all be that bad." He pushed another of the gifts to him.

Harry read the tag. Well, he read 'To Harry, From Nigel' that was written in black magic-marker on the plain brown paper. "Somehow, I think you guys' paper got mixed up..." Nigel snickered and the other guys just looked confused for a moment. Harry tore the paper off and saw a rather intricate wooden box. The top of the box were alternating squares of a light yellow wood and a dark reddish wood. He opened it and found it was a hand-made chess set. The pieces were in the same woods as the top of the box. "Wow... Thanks, Nigel. You made this?"

Nigel nodded, "Yeah. It's the thirty-second set I've done, and I think it's the best one so far."

Harry replaced the lid-cum-playing board. "Thank you." He reached for the next present, saving the one that was obviously from Mr. and Mrs. Kellerman for last. This one was wrapped in a generic blue-and-green 'Happy Birthday' paper. It was from Tim. After the previous two presents, he couldn't even guess what might be in this one. The box was the biggest and when he opened it, he found two sketch-books of different sizes, an assortment of pencils, paint and brushes, and a small airbrush starter kit. "It's fantastic, Tim. I knew I shouldn't have let you see my projects for art class!"

"Come on, kiddo. You're good. You deserve better than that cheap stuff they use at the public schools. There's a gift-voucher in there for canvasses from that art-supply store over on Pinecrest. It should be taped to the inside cover of the smaller sketchbook." Tim waived a waiter over to refill his mug.

Harry carefully sat the box of supplies aside and grinned as Allen pushed the final present across the table. It was wrapped up in dark green paper, tied with a gold bow. The box was the smallest, only a few inches to either side. "This one's from all of us, Harry." Harry missed the questioning glance that Nigel shot to Allen.

Harry tore the paper off and opened the box. A key-ring with three keys on it fell into his hand. He looked up at Allen. "Keys?"

Allen grinned, "Observant as ever, Harry. Look closer."

Harry examined the keys more closely. There were two that were obviously car keys, and one that looked like a house key. He blinked when he recognized the car keys. "You don't mean..."

Allen shrugged, "Viridian's up and running. All she needs now is some body work, electrical tweaking, and a coat of paint."

"But I can't possibly -"

"Yes, you can, Harry. You've done more work on that truck than the rest of us combined. I had Nigel pick it up from a junkyard for next to nothing. She's yours, now. I do expect you to continue working on her until she's in showroom condition, though." His smile grew broader.

"What's the other key, then? It's not a car key."

"Simple, really. I talked it over with Jennifer, and if you ever need it, we've got a spare room for you. I know you want to get out of the Dursleys' place. Frankly, I don't blame you."

Harry swallowed thickly, "Thank you, Mr. Kellerman, it's really nice of you and Mrs. Kellerman, but it's too much, really."

"Nonsense! Harry, you're a good kid. You shouldn't listen to what those creatures you live with tell you. I know your aunt is all caught up in 'what the neighbors think,' well... I've half a mind to go over there today and tell her. You don't realize it, Harry, but the Dursleys are almost universally despised by everyone in the neighborhood. It's only been some fast money on your uncle's part that's kept your cousin out of jail. People aren't blind and they need to realize that. We can all see that you're a great kid, but they treat you like dirt. Half the neighborhood would take you in in a heartbeat, if you'd let them."

Harry coughed, "I really don't know what to say..."

"Thanks is always nice," Tim said.

Harry chuckled, "Yeah, thanks." He met Allen's gaze. "You really didn't have to."

"We wanted to."

* * *

After the party drew to a close, Harry returned to the Dursley residence. It was still relatively early, only seven, so Harry set about mowing the grass. He also weeded the flowerbeds in the back of the house and made sure that the hedges didn't need trimming. He collapsed on his bed in Dudley's second bedroom just as the last light of the day faded from the sky. His thoughts kept running around themselves, chasing each other. He had a lot to take in; from Remus' conversation that afternoon to the unexpected gift from his boss. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until a hand shook him awake. He blearily opened his eyes to see Remus standing beside his bed. A glance at his clock showed that it was ten. "Sorry to wake you, Harry, but we really do need to finish up our chat from earlier this afternoon."

"Shh! They'll hear you!" Harry whispered.

Remus smiled and shouted, "NO, THEY WON'T!"

Harry jumped at the sudden noise, but when Vernon's distinctive footfalls didn't start towards his room, he relaxed. He noticed his glasses were rather blurry and took them off to polish clean on his blanket. "How's that?"

"Silencing charm." Remus explained, "Magic's rather useful for things like that." He smiled and pulled the rickety wooden chair up next to Harry's bed from it's position by the desk.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but could I get a more... obvious demonstration?"

"Of course." Remus pulled his wand out and pointed it at Harry. "_Occulus reparo._" Harry jumped again as the large quantity of tape holding his glasses together disappeared, revealing the thick, plastic frames to be completely unmarked. Remus then stood and repeated the _reparo_ charm on the desk chair and grabbed a pencil from said desk. The pencil morphed into a serving tray and Remus sat it on the bed, next to Harry, before conjuring two cups of tea and a porcelain tea pot. "Do you take sugar, lemon, cream, or honey?" Harry just shook his head. "Enough demonstrating?"

"Yes." Harry reached for one of the cups, as did Remus. "I can do that?"

"After some training, you should be able to do that and a whole lot more."

"My parents could do what you just did?"

Remus chuckled, "Yes, Harry."

"So, this is what you meant when you said some things that are inherited can't be sold..."

"Precisely. While we're on the topic of money, though, I do have some paperwork you'll have to sign. Like I said before, legal age for a wizard is seventeen, and we do need to get through most of this before midnight."

"Why midnight?" Harry asked as Remus dug into a satchel he'd brought with him that Harry was just now noticing.

"Because... Well, to be quite frank, no one from the wizarding world has been able to confirm your existence for the last six years. We've only had vague information from Albus Dumbledore that you were still alive and well. Nothing that would hold up in a court, so-to-speak. Since that last contact anyone had with you was on your eleventh birthday, there are laws that state you can be declared legally dead after six years. If that were to happen, all the properties and money your parents left you would become government property. Hence, why I was sent to locate you."

Harry shook his head. "How could they declare me dead? I'm rather alive at the moment."

"It has to do with what I said about no one having seen you in six years. When your aunt kept you from going to school at Hogwarts, there were repercussions. Look, I'll go into more detail about the how's and why's later. What you need to do is read through this and make sure you sign everywhere it says to." He handed Harry a pile of parchment scrolls. "Don't worry about the legal jargon too much right now. Just scan through them. If you hurry, we should have just enough time."

Harry shrugged. He trusted Remus, now that he'd proved he was what he claimed. He reached for the first scroll and started unrolling it. "Will I get copies of all of this?"

Remus nodded, "These are your copies. Once signed, duplicates will appear in the proper places in the government, as well as at Gringots."

"Gringots?"

"The wizard bank."

"Oh." Harry turned his attention to the scroll before him. He reached the first place his signature was needed, "Pen?" Remus handed him a fountain pen. Harry dutifully signed his name. A few moments later, he signed it again. And again. One-by-one, the parchment scrolls were signed, flashed gold to indicate the copies had been delivered to their proper locations, and set aside. Harry's hand was cramping as he signed the last scroll. It flashed and he set it aside, massaging his wrist. "Is that all?" He'd kept count. He had signed his name five hundred, eighty three times.

"Yes, Harry, that's all of them. Just in time, too," Remus said, indicating the clock. It now read five minutes until midnight.

"Fantastic." Harry yawned.

"Looks like the rest of our discussion can wait until the morning, Harry. Sleep well."

"See you tomorrow, Remus."

Remus nodded and took down the silencing charm just before apparating away. Harry barely noticed; he set the alarm for the next morning and was asleep before his head hit the rather lumpy pillow.

* * *

**A/N2:** I know I have a boatload of unfinished fics to work on, but most of them I _know_ the ending to, I just haven't had the time to write the ends yet. This one crept up on me and even I don't know precisely where it will go. I just have a general idea as to some of the things I want to include. If any of you would like to contribute anything, let me know. If your idea gets used, I'll mention who sent the idea and what the idea was in the AN of the chapter it's included in.

Remember to let me know what you think, in any case.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, sadly. Doesn't keep me from wishing I did, though. All I own are some OC's and what passes for a plot. Sigh.

**A/N: **I am astonished that I received a full ten reviews in the first twenty-four hours this tale was posted. It normally takes me a week to get that many! I love you guys!

As I mentioned in the last chapter, I don't know yet if I will be including slash or not. I do know that this is going to be one of the only Harry-centric fics that I've written in which Harry is straight. If slash does show up, it won't be Harry. It will likely be a background relationship, if at all.

This chapter is going to recap what has been going on at Hogwarts since Harry wasn't there, as well as cover explaining magic and Harry to Harry's muggle friends. I'll apologize now if this is somewhat tedious. It had to be done, though.

In response to a review, Harry's training won't be at Hogwarts - at least, not entirely. This is mainly because Harry still wants to finish his muggle education, not to mention he'd be the oldest-ever first year! He might show up at Hogwarts from time to time, in order to get some tutoring in specific areas, but he's not going to be an actual student there. Oh, if you're wondering if Ron, Hermione, and any others will show up... Keep reading. I might be able to surprise you. Grin.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Changes**

Albus Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief when he received notification that Harry Potter had signed the paperwork transferring his parents' estate into his name. _Thank Merlin. I do hope that Remus will be able to convince him to leave his family... We will need him, and soon._

The Headmaster's thoughts drifted over the events of the last six years. The summer before Harry was supposed to come to school, Dumbledore had received word of a plot of Voldemort's desire for the Sorcerer's Stone, and had hidden the stone in the bowels of the school. His plan was to keep it where it was safest, unfortunately, he hadn't foreseen the fact that one of his teachers was hosting a parasitic dark lord. Quirrel managed to get as far as the final trap before Dumbledore realized what was going on. The shade of Voldemort abandoned his host during the ensuing battle and the ex-professor was still in the long-term unit at St. Mungo's. The stone was destroyed at the insistence of Nicolas Flamel. Dumbledore still mourned the loss of his former mentor and friend. Looking back on it, he should have _known_ something was wrong with Quirrel when the man fainted after announcing the troll that Halloween. He had been distracted by Hermione Granger, though. The poor child spent two months in the hospital wing, recovering from the brutal attack.

In what would have been Harry's second year, Gilderoy Lockhart accepted the Defense position. Dumbledore had read the man's work and had been impressed with what he had written, though he could barely stand the man in person. It wasn't until after the dueling club fiasco that he knew the man was a fraud. Severus was the one that pointed out a few inconsistencies between what Lockhart had said he'd done and his actual skill level. The man was in the middle of a fifty-year sentence to Azkaban for numerous uses of the _obliviate_ spell without proper Ministry approval. Issues with DADA professors aside, that year was also the hardest on the school. They lost three students. Hermione Granger, the victim of the previous year's troll attack, had managed to figure out that there was a basilisk loose in the school. That information was too late to save Penelope Clearwater, Hannah Abbott, or Colin Creevey, though. And it was only quick action on the part of Fawkes that saved Ginerva Weasley's life when she was possessed by the shade of Tom Riddle. She, too, was still in the long-term care unit at St. Mungo's. Unfortunately, with no way to open the chamber where the basilisk denned, it was still a potential threat to the school, though it seemed to have fallen back into hibernation when no further demands had been placed upon it. That year was particularly dark, and it was only the unwavering support of the majority of the parents of the students that kept him in his position as Headmaster.

The following year was mostly quiet. The only thing unusual was the execution of a hippogriff that had attacked Draco Malfoy early in the year. Remus Lupin had made a most excellent DADA professor, however Severus nixed the idea of Lupin returning the next year by making it public knowledge that Lupin was a werewolf. Dumbledore had almost fired the potions master over that little incident.

In what would have been Harry's fourth year, Hogwarts hosted the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Though a chaotic time, no one died, there were no executions, and no long-term stays in the hospital wing for any of the students. Cedric Diggory had been the Hogwarts Champion, but the victory went to Victor Krum. Amazingly, Hermione Granger and Victor still communicated regularly, after she had agreed to go with the Bulgarian to the Yule Ball that year. Dumbledore would be very surprised if the duo didn't eventually marry. Alastor Moody had also made an excellent DADA professor, though he couldn't be talked into returning for another year.

Dumbledore had almost been unable to locate another DADA professor the next year. It was only after hearing that the Ministry would appoint one that he managed to talk Kingsley Shacklebolt into taking the position. Looking back on it, Dumbledore admitted to himself that the Ministry appointee probably would have made a better choice. Kingsley, though a great person, was more strict that Severus was in the classroom, and there were no fewer than fourteen students that spent more than six days in the hospital wing that year. Shacklebolt seemed to have difficulty realizing he was training children, not potential aurors.

The year that just passed was quite probably the quietest of the last six years. There were no student hospitalizations, no deaths, nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary. He had received a DADA professor from the US, as a part of an international intellectual trade. Five witches and wizards from the UK were exchanged with five US witches and wizards. The only comfort Dumbledore took in the entire exchange was that he knew, going into the year, that the DADA professor was only there temporarily. He spent much of the year trying to track down someone to fill the post after the American left. Thus far, he hadn't had much luck. Aside from that, Dumbledore had also been informed that he had to produce some proof that the Boy-Who-Lived, did indeed still live. Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder how things would have been different if Harry had attended Hogwarts.

His thoughts returning to the present, he mused on the information he had received from his contacts, who were whispering of sightings of Lord Voldemort on the continent. Despite the quiet at the school, Dumbledore couldn't help but believe the wizarding world's reprieve was almost up. _This is but the calm before the storm..._

* * *

Harry awoke early the following day. His alarm clock indicated it was only six. He couldn't fall back asleep, however, so he got up and dressed. He pondered the keys for a moment, holding them in his hand. _I really could go live with them... I want to finish school, and it would be a lot easier there than here... Not to mention Remus or someone will probably be teaching me magic, and I _know_ the Dursleys won't want to have that in their home. I'm sure Dudley would be ecstatic to have his second room back... The only problem will be getting them to want to part with me... I'll have to ask Remus what the galleon to pound conversion is. I think, if I've as much money as I assume, I'll be able to fulfill both the Dursleys' dreams and my own in a single sitting. _

Harry noticed a folded piece of paper on his desk with his name on it. He picked it up and read the note.

_Harry,_

_Sorry to leave so suddenly last night, but you were tired enough that I doubt you'd have been much use to further discuss matters._

_Should you decide to take Mr. Kellerman's generous offer, we will need to discuss things with him and his wife. After seeing the relationship you have with your coworkers, I think you will likely want to tell them, as well. Despite the current Statute of Secrecy laws in place at the Ministry, I think this can be covered under the 'familial disclosure' clause. The law doesn't explicitly state what defines a 'family.' If anyone tries to press the issue, I do know a solicitor of some repute that delights in taking on the Ministry._

_I know you must have at least a thousand questions for me, and I promise to answer them all to the best of my ability._

_See you at work,_

_Remus J. Lupin_

Harry re-folded the note and tucked it into his pocket. He made up his mind. Regardless of what the Dursleys wanted, he was going to get out of No. 4, Privit Drive. The mention of family in Remus' note made him realize that was exactly what he thought of his boss and coworkers. He'd felt that way for some time, but hadn't really realized it until that moment. He glanced at the clock and saw it was still only six-thirty. He nodded to himself, there was still time.

He didn't normally work on Fridays, but the Dursleys didn't know that. Every day, whether or not he worked, he left the house at eight and didn't return until sometime after seven. Petunia and Vernon didn't care, so long as all his chores were done and they kept getting his paychecks. The fact that he wasn't around for lunch or dinner cinched the deal, so-to-speak. Harry loaded his backpack with the few things in the room he felt he couldn't leave behind, including his gifts from the day before, as well as the gifts he had been given at Christmas. He left most of the clothes; though he had altered them to fit him, they were still rather worn-out. Harry knew how much he had saved from his job, and also knew that even if the actual money he had inherited wasn't as much as he thought, he would surely be able to sell the properties for some decent money. He wasn't going to be spending the rest of the summer in Dudley's cast-offs.

With his meager packing finished, Harry took the time to pen a quick note to his relatives. He smirked and left it on the kitchen table, taped to a box of cereal.

In the early morning light, Harry jogged the few blocks to the Kellerman house. He had visited them several times over the last two years, as he had Nigel, Tim, and Mike. The lights indicated that his boss, at least, was awake. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After a moment of waiting, the door opened to reveal Mrs. Kellerman.

"Harry! What a nice surprise. Come in, come in. Did you want some breakfast?" Jennifer was a rather energetic woman with long, curly brown hair that was starting to grey at the temples and light blue eyes.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kellerman. I'd love some. Is Mr. Kellerman home?" Harry followed her to the kitchen.

"Yes, he is. Allen should be down any minute. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Jenn?" She smiled at the teenager. "Now, you sit down and help yourself to some food."

Just as Harry was filling a plate with eggs and toast, Allen wandered, yawning, into the kitchen. "Good morning, honey, I was wondering if..." He caught sight of Harry. "Oh, hey Harry. Nix the question, dear, he's right here." Jennifer laughed and poured her husband a cup of strong coffee. Allen sank onto a chair and gratefully took the coffee from his wife. "Thanks, hon." He turned to Harry. "Decided to take us up on our offer?"

Harry bit his lip, "Maybe."

"Oh, posh." Jennifer shook her head, "There's no 'maybe' about it, Harry. You're coming to live here and that's the end of it."

Harry sighed, "There's some stuff you need to hear before I come here, though. Do you know how to get a hold of Remus, Allen?"

Allen nodded, sipping his coffee. "Of course, but what does he have to do with you?"

"A bit, actually. He knew my parents, and-"

Jennifer interrupted, "That's quite alright, Harry. If you would rather live with-"

"Mrs. Kellerman... Jenn. That wasn't what I was going to say." Harry sighed again, things weren't quite going as he had planned. He met Allen's questioning gaze, "Just call Remus, please?"

Knowing he wasn't going to get much more out of the boy, Allen nodded. "Should I close up shop for the day?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know. I don't know how long this will take."

Allen scooped up his cell phone and car keys. "I'll just kip over to the shop and post a notice. I'll also leave a new message on the answering machine. Did you want the guys over, too?"

Harry thought for a full minute before nodding slowly. "Beatrice and Ashley, too, unless Bea has other plans." Harry wasn't about to tell Mike without including his wife and daughter, too.

Forty-five minutes later, everyone was crowded in the smallish parlor of the Kellerman house. Allen, himself, showed up with Remus. Remus didn't own a car and Allen had swung by the hotel he was staying in to pick him up. Remus met Harry's eyes, "I see you got my note."

Harry nodded. "That I did. I think it's a really good idea. I left one for the Dursleys this morning before coming over here. I think we'll be lucky if the police don't show up before noon."

"What? Police? Harry, what's going on?" Jennifer asked, concerned.

Harry chuckled. "It's not like that, Jenn. I just let them know not to expect me back. Ever."

The entire room laughed at that. Tim broke the following silence. "Come on, kiddo. Why did we all just get a day off of work?"

Harry smiled a little, "I don't think you'll be able to duplicate this, Tim. Remus, if you will?"

Remus nodded and stood up, "Demonstration?"

"Wouldn't hurt." Harry watched as Remus pulled out his wand, then turned his attention to the people assembled.

"Hmm... What to do..." Remus muttered.

"Um... Lupin? You alright?" Nigel asked.

Remus ignored the question and grinned when he spotted a china figurine on the mantle. "Ah-ha!" He strode across the room and picked up the figurine of a girl in a flowing pink dress. Without preamble, he dropped it on the marble hearth. Jennifer gasped in outrage, but before she could start in on a tirade about guests and valuable statuettes, Remus just pointed his wand at the fragments and intoned, "_Reparo_." The collected assembly gasped as the fragments flew back into their original form. "_Wingardium leviosa_." The figurine, which, in Harry's opinion, had only been improved upon shattering, floated back to its location on the mantle.

Remus turned to meet the astonished gazes of Harry's surrogate family. "How'd you do that?" Mike asked.

Harry answered, "Magic."

Remus grinned again and launched into a small lecture that proved, once again, why he never should have left teaching. "Harry is correct. You've just witnessed a practical application of magic. Harry is a wizard, as am I. Harry should have spent the last six years attending a school where he would learn to use his skills, however the Dursleys kept him from the education he needed. After some training, he will be able to do what I just showed you, as well as a whole lot more.

"Unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that any of the rest of you are able to do magic. Magic is hereditary, and though a dominate trait, rather like brown eyes, it is very rare; more like the genes that determine if an individual has a widows' peak in their hairline. Occasionally, a witch or wizard appears in a family where no one else is magical; much like you can sometimes see a person with blonde hair in a family where everyone else is a brunette, but it's doesn't happen very often. In most cases, this is what's known as a 'double dominate' showing, meaning that both the magical and non-magical genes have been passed on through the generations with the trait that the physiology of the individual can handle manifesting. It takes a certain mental state to be able to handle magic. On the flip side of things, there are times when a non-magical child is born to an all-magical family. Such persons are known as squibs. Though conclusive evidence is lacking, it has been theorized that such children are the result of an interruption of magical flow in the body of the mother during pregnancy. Going back to the eye analogy, it's like the enzyme imbalance that causes a child to be born with one blue eye and one brown.

"Insofar as Harry and his living here is concerned, there are some things about his history and status in the Wizarding World that you will need to take into consideration. Firstly, Mr. Kellerman, Mrs. Kellerman. You must be prepared for odd happenings around the house. My second piece of information is for everybody. The Wizarding World is, by necessity, not something that the wider world is aware of. If you feel you cannot handle keeping Harry's abilities secret, please let me know right now. Your memory of the morning will be altered so that you do not remember it at all, or you can choose to remember something else instead." Remus paused, looking at each of the people present in turn.

When no one spoke up, Remus continued. "Once I've finished, I will give everyone another chance to walk away and forget it all. You'll understand in a minute." He locked eyes with Harry. "Much of what I've yet to say centers all around young Harry here. Unless you'd rather I'd speak with you in private?"

"No, Remus. I'd rather they knew, whatever it was." Harry motioned for the man to continue.

"Very well." Remus began to pace the room. "About thirty years ago, a man surfaced in the Wizarding World. He started talking to people, other witches and wizards, pressing to pass laws regarding the control of the muggle-born population. 'Muggle' is a term for a non-magical person born to non-magical parents. What this man was proposing was nothing less than genocide for all muggle-born witches and wizards above the age of three. Those children that had been recorded at the ministry as being magical, yet not a part of a magical family, were to be taken and fostered to pureblood families. These children, as well as half-bloods - those wizards who had one parent that was a muggle or muggle-born themselves - were to be given the most menial of jobs in the society. Fortunately, he was unable to get these laws to pass, however he had acquired quite a following, primarily of the pureblood aristocracy. When it became apparent that he would be unable to get these laws to pass legally, he and his supporters began enforcing them, illegally. His primary goal in this was not to maintain the secrecy of the wizarding population, but to make it easier to allow for the annihilation of the non-magical world."

"Pardon, Lupin, but what's this got to do with Harry?" Nigel asked.

"I'm getting to that. Over the years, attacks against muggle-borns and half-bloods grew more frequent and more violent. Then, shortly before Harry was born, a seer made a prophesy during an interview with Albus Dumbledore - Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, you're probably familiar with those card-reading frauds that are on the late-night telly broadcasts, and you've also likely joined what I just said about a prophecy to that mental picture. Please don't. Though most of the branch of magic known as Divination is rather... imprecise at best, prophecies themselves may as well be carved in stone. They are a genuine glimpse of how the future will pan out. In any case, this Dark wizard heard part of this prophecy and targeted the two families to which it could be applied. One of the families was Harry's.

"On the night of October 31, 1981, the Dark Lord used the killing curse against James Potter and his wife, Lily. The circumstances of Lily's death created a very strong protection charm on her son, Harry. When the Dark wizard attempted to cast the killing curse on Harry, the charm caused it to rebound on the caster, ripping him from his body and casting his spirit into a state of limbo. It is believed that the Dark wizard will return. He was - and still is - a very powerful wizard. When he returns, though, it is likely he will try to pick up where he left off and try to kill Harry again." Remus sighed and slumped into an armchair.

"Question." Jennifer said, "Rather, two questions. First, what is the prophesy? Second, what can we do about it?"

"To answer your second question first, there's not much you _can_ do. Most of it is all up to Harry. As to the first... It would be best for you not to know. I will tell Harry - he needs to know - but it's best for you not to know. Just in case."

Mike scrubbed a hand across his face. "This 'Dark wizard' got a name?"

Remus nodded, "Yes. However, as most people in the wizarding world are too scared to say it, he's most commonly referred to as 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.' The name he was born with was Tom Marvolo Riddle. He now calls himself 'Lord Voldemort.'"

Beatrice snorted, "He should have called himself the Lord of Bad Anagrams."

Remus quirked an eyebrow, "How's that?"

Beatrice, a tiny woman with a vaguely Asian cast to her features, just grabbed the notepad from the table by the door and scribbled something down. "I love anagrams. Taking the letters from one set of words and mixing them up to form new words. See?" She handed the paper to Remus. On it were the words 'Tom Marvolo Riddle,' below which was written, 'I am lord Voldemort' with little lines running from each letter in the first row to where it was moved in the second row.

Remus chuckled. "I wonder if anyone else has ever noticed that?"

Harry had been silent until this point, merely content to watch the others' reactions. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Remus? You said that when this Voldie-fellow cast that curse at me, it rebounded and hit him, right?" Remus nodded. "So, that's what gave me the scar?" Remus nodded again. "And he was - I believe you said - 'ripped from his body?'"

"Yes, Harry, that I did."

Harry frowned for a moment, thinking. He met Remus' eyes once more, "If that's so, then what do I have to worry about?"

Remus sighed and shook his head, "Harry... Though the vast majority of our world believes him to have been vanquished forever, there are still many of us that remain unconvinced. The primary supporter of this stance is Albus Dumbledore."

"I know you said he was the headmaster of that school," Allen interjected, "but, why does he believe that? Does he have some sort of proof?"

Remus stood up again. "Albus is... The single-most respected wizard in Britain. He is over 150 years old, one of the strongest wizards since Merlin, himself, and quite intelligent and accomplished in areas other than his age. He is readily accepted as the Leader of the Light and has fought more evil in his lifetime than most people can conceive of. He fought his own dark lord back in the '40's. When he says that Voldemort is going to return, personally, I see no reason to distrust the information. He wouldn't be so convinced on something as shaky as a hunch or a belief."

Tim shrugged. "I believe that _you_ believe in the man; we can all see your conviction when speaking of him, but... Have you seen any proof yourself? Ignoring what he may have said, do _you_ believe this man poses a threat to our Harry?"

Remus smiled at Tim's endearment. "Unfortunately, I have. He branded all his followers with his personal mark. It's a skull with a snake crawling out of the mouth and forming the symbol of eternity just below the skull. All the followers have this mark branded on their left forearm. I know one man who, in his youth, had been blinded by political rhetoric and took the mark, becoming one of the Death Eaters - the Voldemort's supporters. After seeing firsthand some of their forms of 'entertainment,' he wanted out of the organization. Of course, with a man like Voldemort, no one just _leaves_. The Death Eater eventually turned to Dumbledore to try to make amends for his grievous lapse in judgement. He ended up spending the next few years spying on his former master, risking his life so that the Light might have information. This man's mark, though faded over time, has never gone away. As the mark is branded with magic, had Voldemort died, the mark should have completely disappeared. As it has only faded, the only assumption we can make is that he's still out there, biding his time, trying to find a way to rebuild his power."

The room was silent, save for breathing and Ashley's soft snores. Harry broke the silence, "Wow... I don't really know what to say, Remus. This is all a bit much to take in, you know?" Harry stood up and stretched. "Was there anything else that they needed to know, or should we talk privately for a while?"

"I think that would be best, Harry. However, would I be amiss if I requested a little time to regroup?" He smiled at Jennifer, "And a glass of water would be most appreciated."

Jennifer had the decency to blush. "I am _so _sorry! I just got so caught up in the mystery and your sudden demonstration, and the explanation... I've been completely neglecting my duties as a hostess. Please forgive me."

Remus shrugged. "No problem."

"Does anyone else want anything?" Jennifer stood up, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

"Some tea wouldn't hurt, Jenn, maybe some coffee, too. I don't know about anyone else, but I missed breakfast." Tim said.

"Certainly. I think I've got some biscuits around here somewhere..." Tim followed Jennifer into the kitchen.

Allen looked at Mike, Beatrice, and the sleeping Ashley. "Why don't you lay her down in the den? The sofa in there is more than comfortable." Beatrice nodded and murmured her thanks as she did just that. Now addressing Mike, Allen smirked. "Looks likely that all of you will be around all day?"

"That's a fair assumption, I'd say."

"It's a beautiful day..."

Mike grinned. "Steak, burgers, or ribs?"

"I was thinking burgers, crisps, maybe some salad. Some ice cream."

Mike gave a mock-salute. "Aye-aye, cap'in. Back in an hour or so." He ducked out the front door.

Allen motioned for Remus and Harry to follow him. He lead them to Harry's room on the second floor. As his house was part of the same development as the Dursleys' residence, it had originally been built with the same blueprints. However, in the twenty years the Kellermans had been in residence, Allen had made some modifications to the general layout. What would have been Dudley's bedrooms in the Dursley household had been combined into the master suite in the Kellerman house. The 'second' bedroom had been converted into a dressing area/closet and large bath. The other two bedrooms remained unchanged, aside from the carpet and paint. On the first floor, Allen had also added an enclosed back porch, as well as his den. The garage even had a small addition to it for Jennifer's gardening supplies; her roses had won four consecutive national awards.

Harry and Remus were led to what Harry realized would have been his aunt and uncle's room at the Dursley house. Allen smiled at Harry as he opened the door. "I know it's kind of sparse right now, but when we were talking about taking you in, Tim mentioned you like to paint and Mike said it would be a good idea for you to pick out your own furniture and whatnot, to make the room really _yours_." The room had white paint and bare floorboards, no curtains, and the only furniture was a roll-away cot and a card table with a couple of folding chairs. "What's here is just to hold you until we can go pick out what you want."

Harry had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat. He had the same little tingle in his fingers that he got when faced with a blank canvas in art class. He had been offered something that was to be made completely _his_. No broken toys, no boxes of hastily-stored brick-a-brack, no locks other than the one on the _inside _of his door. Explicit permission to _be himself_. He shakily sat on the cot, trying desperately to make the tears that wanted to escape go away. He coughed to clear his throat, "Thank you," he whispered, though his voice still managed to crack a little.

Allen tactfully ignored the emotional display, "I'll be downstairs if either of you two need me."

Remus pulled one of the folding chairs over to Harry's bedside. "You going to be alright?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. This is all... Just a bit much, you know?"

"I can see that. You sure you want to continue our discussion?"

Harry nodded, wiping at his eyes. "Yeah. I have some questions that need answered."

Remus chuckled. "I imagine you do."

Harry stared at the blank white wall for a moment, gathering his racing thoughts. He took a deep breath. "First question, what is the exchange rate on wizarding money?"

Remus couldn't help it, of all the questions Harry could have asked, _that_ one was the last he expected; he broke down into true laughter. Once it subsided, he gasped, "Sorry. Wasn't expecting that. The actual amount varies from day-to-day, much as it does between countries, but for the last couple of years, it's been right around five pounds to the galleon."

Harry did some quick calculations in his head before his eyes threatened to pop out of his skull. "But... but..."

Remus snickered. "Your father was a very wealthy man, Harry. You are his sole heir."

Harry was gobsmacked. He'd heard of businesses that owned that much money, but not a single individual. Some small part of his mind, though, was grinning in glee. He'd be bound to buy the Dursleys off now. Once he had gathered his wits, he asked, "I know the Dursleys will leave me alone if I can make it worth their while..."

A positively mischievous glint glittered in Lupin's eyes. "Why do I smell a prank coming?"

Harry grinned. "Because that's what I intend to do."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Do you own a suit?" Harry detailed what he wanted to do to the Dursleys.

When Harry had finished, Remus smirked, "Remind me to tell you later about the Marauders." He leaned back in the chair. "What other questions do you have?"

"Will you be the one teaching me magic?"

Remus nodded, "Primarily. There will be others that might come in from time to time to show you something that either I'm not that skilled at, or that you need more instruction in than I am capable of bestowing."

Harry leaned back against the wall. "Will I get to meet other witches and wizards my own age?"

"Possibly."

"Why only 'possibly?'"

"Because it's not something that's been planned as of yet. I'm sure you will eventually, but I wouldn't count on it until after Christmas, at the earliest."

Harry nodded, "Fair enough. Next, will I get to see that school you mentioned? And are there other places just for witches and wizards?"

Remus grinned. "As to the school - likely. Other places? Definitely. If we get done here reasonably early, we can go visit Gringots in Diagon Alley. Let you have the chance to withdraw some cash. While there, we'll also want to stop by Ollivander's for a wand and get an owl from Eyelops'. All of the shops on Diagon Alley have owl-order catalogs. Makes getting things a lot easier."

"Why's that?"

Remus sighed, he had known he wouldn't be able to hide this topic for long. "Two reasons, really. First, Diagon is in London, so it cuts out unnecessary travel. Second... You remember what I said about the night your parents died?"

"About the curse rebounding off me?"

"Precisely. Well... That's made you somewhat of a... legend in the wizarding world. You're famous. Though no one has seen you since you were eleven years old, it's likely you'd be recognized. If it weren't for the fact that you have to personally be there to choose a wand, I'd recommend that you never stray to Diagon at all. Though most people don't want to believe Voldemort will return, his followers know that if he does, your death would be a massive 'gold star,' so-to-speak, on their record."

"And this prophecy you mentioned?"

"Do you want it verbatim or just the gist of it?"

"Just the gist, please."

"Essentially, it boils down to something to the effect that since Voldemort picked you out of the two possibilities, you have some 'power' he doesn't, that you have the capability to defeat him once and for all, and that either you have to kill him, or he will kill you."

To Remus' surprise, Harry merely nodded. "I was kind of expecting something like that. You can't get the good without the bad, right? Good thing: Shut of the Dursleys forever. Bad thing: People I've never met want to kill me. Good thing: I finally have a space of my own. Bad thing: There's a really evil guy wanting to take over the world. Good thing: I have money. A lot of money. Bad thing: My parents had to die for me to get it. Everything balances out in the end."

Remus was more than a little shocked at Harry's attitude and it showed. "Seriously, Remus. Every good thing in the world is balanced by something not so good. Ah! Another example. The Dursleys and the Kellermans. Dudley and you. Is what I'm trying to say making any sense?"

Remus nodded. "It's a remarkably mature attitude for someone only days into being seventeen."

Harry grinned lopsidedly, "It's still true." Harry changed the subject, "Back to Diagon Alley, though. When will we go and how long will it take? I don't fancy sleeping on a cot tonight."

Remus returned Harry's grin with one of his own. "Shouldn't take more than an hour or two, and we can go whenever you're ready."

"Just let me tell Allen." Harry bounced to his feet and out of the room.

Remus shook his head, bemused. _One thing's for sure, at least life won't be boring around Harry!_

* * *

While Harry and Remus discussed matters upstairs, the other adults in Harry's life were discussing the amazing tale Remus told, as well as his astonishing display of magic. Tim, Nigel, and Beatrice were debating known scientific theories that might be applicable to the bit of magic they witnessed in the parlor, while Allen and Jennifer discussed Remus in the kitchen, and Mike was out gathering things for a simple barbecue lunch. Ashley slept on in the den.

* * *

After letting Allen know what he was doing, Harry rejoined Remus in his room. "So... How are we getting to Diagon Alley? I know how to drive, but the truck is over at the shop, and it still needs to be registered."

Remus grinned. "There won't be a need for that, Harry. Wizards have other means of travel. There are several magical ways to get from point A to point B. The most common is floo travel. Fireplaces are connected to a magical network, much like muggle telephones, though not all fireplaces are or can be connected to the system. It's rather dizzying, but the safest way for children and people with injuries to travel magically. The floo network can also be used like a video-phone, solely for communication. Since you've not applied to have the fireplace here hooked up to the floo, we obviously won't be going that route. Another common method of wizarding travel is flight. Mostly broomstick flight - yes, like all the storybooks say - but since neither of us currently own a broom, we can nix that thought, eh? You might want to pick one up after you've had a bit of time to get used to magic in general. Your father was quite a flyer in his day, and said that there was nothing better to blow off steam than a good flight. Portkeys are also quite common, but they're regulated by the Ministry. The last method is only slightly less common than floo. It's called apparation. To apparate from one location to another can be likened to teleporting in science-fiction. And that, Harry, is how we will be getting to Gringots."

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Though the first few times you experience it, it can be somewhat unpleasant. The feeling goes away after you've done it a couple of times. Since you're new to magic, what we'll be doing is technically called Side-Along Apparation, or piggy-backing." Remus stood in the middle of the room. "What this means is that I'm the one doing all the work, just taking you along for the ride. Stand here," he pointed to a spot on the floor in front of him.

Harry hurried to the indicated location. "Do I need to do anything?"

"It's best the first time if you close your eyes and relax." Harry followed the suggestion. He felt Remus' hands on his shoulders before suddenly feeling like he was being compressed into a tiny sphere and squeezed though an elastic tube. "Very good, Harry."

Harry cracked his eyes open and stared in shock at what was definitely not his new room. "Wow... Though I can see what you mean about it being a bit unpleasant." Harry was trying to look in all directions at once. There were people wearing normal clothes, people wearing robes, people wearing cloaks, and all manner of strange folk he had never seen before wandering hither and thither on their errands.

"Come on, Harry. We have to get out of the Apparation Zone before we inadvertently splinch someone."

Harry allowed himself to be pulled towards a white marble building. "Splinch?"

"It happens when someone tries to apparate without the proper concentration. They end up leaving parts of themselves behind. Takes forever and a day to correct."

"Sounds painful."

"It isn't. The parts left behind are still attached to the rest of the person, but magically, rather than physically." Remus nodded at a smallish figure wearing armor next to the doors of the marble building.

"Where is this?"

"Gringots. It's run by goblins. Don't stare, and if you're addressed directly, be respectful."

"Sure thing." Harry had just enough time to read the inscription by the doors before following Remus inside. He grinned at the rhyme.

They made their way to a rather bored-looking goblin. "Business?" he asked.

"I need... No, my companion needs to make a withdrawal from his account and transfer some funds into muggle currency." Remus spoke to the goblin rather quickly, his words almost blending in with one another.

The goblin peered first at Remus and then at Harry. "Do you have your key?"

Harry panicked momentarily, "Um..."

Remus interrupted, "Yes, I've got it here." He handed a small key to the goblin.

The goblin ran a finger over the tines and nodded. "Griphook! Vault 687."

Another goblin approached, "This way."

Remus and Harry followed the small figure. Remus was trying to hide his smile at the upcoming cart-ride. By the time the cart pulled to a stop at Harry's vault, however, he wondered if it had been worth it. Harry, never having ridden a roller coaster before, was experiencing the newbie reaction to such a trip. He was pale, shaky, and none too stable on his feet. "You alright?"

Harry nodded. "I'll be okay, Remus. Just warn me next time, eh?"

Remus nodded and handed Harry's key to the goblin. Griphook opened the vault and Harry's jaw dropped. He had known what the paperwork had said about his money, but it was altogether something else to actually _see_ a pile of gold and silver. Remus handed Harry a drawstring bag. "Go ahead and fill this. We'll stop in the lobby to get some of it converted to muggle money on our way out. You may want to get a Gringots access card."

Harry looked up from filling the bag, "A what?"

"It's a debit card for your vault. Gringots has a partnership with Chase-Manhattan for wizards that deal with the muggle world on a regular basis. The card can be used at any stores that take Master Card. It only costs a couple of galleons a month to maintain."

Harry nodded, "Makes more sense than running around with a large supply of cash."

"Precisely."

Half an hour later, Harry and Remus left the bank. Harry had three new keys on his key ring and a brand-new debit card in his wallet. Their next stop would be Ollivander's. Harry was having a hard time reining in his excitement. A bell dinged as they opened the door to the wand-maker's domain. Harry grimaced at the dark and dusty room, piled high with boxes.

"Ah... Mister Potter. We meet at last, though I had expected to see you much earlier."

Harry jumped and whirled around. He saw an old man with flyaway hair and large, unnerving eyes. "S-sir?"

The man glanced towards Remus, "And Mister Lupin. What a pleasure. 12 inches, Cedar and phoenix crest-feather. Still serving you well, I presume?"

"Yes, yes it is. Thank you."

Ollivander turned back to Harry, "Well now, Mister Potter. Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed." Harry said as the shopkeeper withdrew a ribbon tape measure and began measuring his arm. It took him a moment to notice that the man had walked away and the tape was measuring him on its own.

An hour later, Harry felt as though he must have tried every wand in the store. "How much longer is this going to take, sir?"

Ollivander 'harrumphed' and met Harry's gaze with his own piercing stare, "As long as it takes, Mister Potter." He wandered back into the stacks of stored wands, muttering to himself. He paused partway down an aisle, a whispered "I wonder..." floated back to where Harry stood with Remus. The shopkeeper reappeared carrying yet another wand box. "Try this one." He handed it to Harry.

Harry picked up the wand and felt a tingling creep up his arm. He waived it experimentally and was rewarded with a shower of golden sparks. Ollivander's voice interrupted Harry's enjoyment of bonding with his wand, however. "Curious."

"How's that?" Harry asked.

"As Mister Lupin can attest, I recall the specifics of every wand I have ever sold. What I find curious, Mister Potter, is that the phoenix who donated the tail feather that resides in your wand donated only a single other feather. That feather resides within the wand that gave you your scar."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, "So?"

Ollivander smiled eerily, "Perhaps you should discuss this with your companion. That will be seven galleons."

Harry hurriedly handed over the money, eager to leave the shop and the creepy old man behind. "Now we're to get an owl, correct?"

"Right. Eyelops' is over here." Remus led the way.

They were in the shop for a total of six minutes when a snowy owl landed on Harry's shoulder and hooted. "Hey there." Harry smiled at the owl.

The clerk wandered over, impressed. "That's the first time she's responded to anyone since she was an owlet."

"She's beautiful." Harry reached up and petted her soft feathers.

"She's nine galleons. Cages, perches, and dishes are over there," the clerk pointed to the back of the store. "And you can find owl treats on the carousel by the register."

"Thanks."

Remus led Harry to the perches. "You'll want a perch that is big enough for a visiting owl to rest on, as well as one that will fit in with the furniture you want to get."

"Thanks, Remus. I don't know what sort of furniture I want, though." He turned to the snowy owl on his shoulder, "What do you think, girl? It's your perch..."

The owl hooted and fluttered off Harry's shoulder to land on a pole-style perch that wasn't much taller than Harry was. It was made of a light yellow wood with a light carving of leaves decorating it. Remus quickly located a food and water dish that would attach to the perch without any issues, as well as a bronze travel-cage.

When they finished at Eyelops, Remus apparated them back to the Kellerman house, directly into Harry's room. While Harry set up his owl's perch and filled her water and food dishes, Remus checked his watch. It was only one o'clock. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" The teen looked up from petting his owl.

"Did you want me to go and... ahem... _talk_ with the Dursleys this afternoon?"

Harry shook his head, "No. Wait until tomorrow. Is there any way I can legally get my guardianship transferred to the Kellermans?"

Remus nodded. "Yes. It's not that difficult. I just need to pop over and talk to that solicitor I mentioned before and get some forms that need to be filled out. What it amounts to is that you'll be declared an emancipated minor. Since the wizarding world recognizes adulthood a year sooner than the muggle world, it's actually a common practice. All we'll need is to get the Dursleys to sign the paperwork."

Harry grinned. "That shouldn't be too difficult." He went back to petting his owl. "What should I name her?"

Remus looked at the bird for a long time before answering. "What about Hedwig?"

"Why that?"

Remus shrugged. "She looks like a Hedwig."

"What do you say, girl? It's a pretty name for a pretty owl." The owl hooted and nibbled at Harry's ear. "I think she likes it."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of barbecue fun. Harry showed off his Hedwig, much to the bird's delight. She collected copious praise and soft pats. Remus was asked to demonstrate various magical charms and explain a bit on the theory several times. He made fast friends with Ashley when he conjured an ever-blooming yellow rose for her. Finally, however, everyone had to depart for their homes. Beatrice left, grumbling about her sunburn.

Harry was up in his room, trying to decide what sort of furniture he wanted, when Jennifer and Allen cornered Remus in the lounge. "Did you need something?" Lupin asked.

Allen and his wife exchanged a look. Jennifer broke the silence. "Allen tells me you're currently staying at a hotel."

Remus nodded, "It's only temporary."

She grinned, "That's right. You said you'd be teaching Harry about his magic. Allen and I think it would be a good idea if you stayed here."

Remus bit his lip. _How to explain this?_ "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?" Allen asked.

"Well, for starters, I was only staying at the hotel until I had managed to locate Harry. Of course, I didn't realize at the time I'd end up with a temporary job - thanks again, by the way. I do plan on continuing on at the shop until Mike is recovered."

"Don't worry about it. But you've managed to get off topic." Allen mentioned.

Remus sighed. "It's just that I've got this... problem. I can get into a lot of trouble if I knowingly put people in danger."

Jenn crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You're being cryptic. Explain. Now."

Remus knew he'd have to be forthright with Harry's friends. He had planned on letting Harry know, eventually. He swallowed and searched out that lauded Gryffindor courage once more. "I suffer from lycanthropy. It's not a good idea for me to stay here."

"Lycanthropy?" Allen's brow furrowed in concentration. "Where have I heard that before?"

Remus shook his head. "I'm a werewolf."

"A werewolf? As in howl-at-the-full-moon werewolf?" Jennifer asked.

Remus nodded. "Yes. I was bitten when I was a small child. I've lived with this curse for just over thirty years. The Ministry is rather ruthless when it comes to werewolf regulations. I have to have a safe location to transform on the night of the full moon each month, or else there can be severe penalties. Fines. Possible time in prison. And if I ever managed to infect someone? That's a death sentence."

Allen shrugged, realizing that even with the events he had witnessed that day, there was still a lot he didn't know. "Let's look at this logically, shall we? You're to be Harry's tutor. Harry will be living here. You have a disease that requires some consideration. Where have you been going to transform before? Could you still go to that location on the nights of the full moon?"

Remus nodded, "I could. I know that Albus said I can continue using that location for as long as I needed."

Allen smiled. "Good. Next question: Can someone catch this lycanthropy if you're not transformed?"

"No. It's only communicable through the bite of a transformed wolf."

"Again, good. Last question: Is popular culture correct about the silver allergy?"

"Yes. Unfortunately. Most of the time, contact with silver just leaves me with an itchy red mark where it touched my skin. However, for the day before, of, and after the full moon, silver can make my skin blister and burn."

Allen and Jennifer exchanged another of those looks that only couples seem capable of. "Then it's settled. Why don't you pop back to your hotel and grab your things? The guest room is yours for as long as you need it." Jennifer's tone allowed no room for argument. Remus reflected it would have been like trying to argue with Molly Weasley.

While Jennifer was making sure the guest room was fitted with fresh sheets and properly dusted, Allen knocked at Harry's door. "Come in."

"Evening, Harry."

"Hey Allen."

"What are you up to?"

Harry was sitting at the card table, reading through a stack of catalogs. He was using a green highlighter to indicate objects and books that sounded interesting. "Window-shopping, so-to-speak."

"These from those wizard shops?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I'm not sure what a lot of this stuff is, but I'm sure Remus will be able to explain it all to me."

Allen decided to let the werewolf tell Harry that he'd been invited to stay, too. "Did you decide what you want to do with your room, yet?"

Harry smiled. "I think so. I got the idea from Hedwig's perch." Allen's eyes admired the beautifully carved piece of workmanship. "And I drew these." Harry handed Allen a stack of pencil sketches.

Allen looked them over, impressed with Harry's drawing talent. "Wow, kiddo. These look great. I'm a little jealous. I can't draw a straight line without a ruler and a level. Most of what you've got here can be picked up either here in town, or just over in London. We should be able to get the majority of this done on Sunday."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The wood flooring is what will take the longest, but there's also the walls... I'm not sure what kind of help I'd be with that..."

Harry laughed. "Don't worry about the walls. All you'll need to do is help put on the base color. I'm going to paint the rest myself. If that's alright?"

"Not a problem, Harry. This is your room. Ultimately, only you have to be happy with it."

* * *

**A/N2:** There you go, another nice and long chapter. Don't get too used to the fast updates, though, I tend to start off strong and then peter out after a couple of chapters. Please remember that if you have anything specific that you want to see in upcoming chapters, leave me a review and I'll make sure you're mentioned if I use the idea. Thanks for everyone's support, I love hearing from you all. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... Oops. Wrong fandom. Sorry. Well, I guess I could say I don't own HP. Yeah.

**A/N: **Wow. Twenty-two reviews. You guys all rock!

Normally, I despise reading shopping trips, simply because too many authors describe everything that gets purchased. Why do I care what color of underwear Harry buys? Why should I care if he owns thirteen pairs of khakis and one pair of green leather pants? However, I discovered it _is_ possible to write a shopping trip that's not full of these irritating, information-overload details. I tried to keep it relatively simple, while still keeping it interesting. I also mention cast-aluminum, and as I didn't know what it was when I first heard about it, I'll let you know that it's very strong and sturdy, though not as heavy as other metals, and can be worked to look like wrought iron (which is the look I was going for in the story.)

I'm also doing something a bit differently from my other stories with this one. I'm going to be delving into a bit of magical theory. Keep in mind that Harry's an intelligent seventeen-year-old, not a scared little boy. He's had time to study things that he hadn't had the chance to in canon. A lot of this is covered by his muggle education, and, as I have very little knowledge of how muggle schools in Britain work, I'm using what I remember from my own US schooling. If something is absolutely impossible for Harry to have learned in school, let me know, and I'll explain it as him having read about it during one of his days hiding from the Dursleys at the library.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Vacation? Not Hardly.**

Harry woke up to the smell of frying bacon. He felt a bit displaced for a moment, until he opened his eyes and remembered the previous day. Harry grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, followed by his scuffed trainers and t-shirt. _I'm really going to have to get some clothes, and soon. I wonder if Allen would let me have the day off, even though we didn't work yesterday..._ he mused as he quietly slipped out of his room and went downstairs. He paused outside the kitchen door, confused. He heard three distinct voices. _What's this?_

"...know what you mean, Jenn. Do you know I reported them to social services no fewer than six times about that boy?"

"No, I didn't. I have to wonder, though, exactly how much money that fat pig had to dish out over the years." Jenn's voice was exceptionally bitter.

"Also makes you wonder precisely where he's getting all that cash, though." Allen said, quietly enough that Harry almost had his ear pressed to the door.

There was a brief pause, then Remus muttered something that Harry couldn't quite catch. The kitchen door swung open and Harry sprawled on the floor. "Morning, Harry," Remus said, smirking.

"Ow." Harry got back to his feet, "That wasn't very nice."

"You shouldn't eavesdrop. I've found that half the information is often more damaging in the long run than not knowing anything." Remus sat back down at the table, reading over a list of notes on a yellow legal pad. Jenn was standing by the kitchen sink, rinsing out a coffee mug. Allen was polishing off a plate of bacon and eggs.

"So... What were you talking about?" Harry sat down at the table and filled his own plate.

"Well, I was getting some information from Jenn and Allen about rumors concerning the Dursleys. I know you just wanted to pay them off if they agreed to sign the emancipation paperwork, but... When I spoke to Allen about it, he seemed a bit... irate... about giving them any money." Remus quirked an eyebrow at Harry, "It seems that though you've been working for Allen for two years now, yet you don't see any of the money yourself."

Harry shook his head, "That's not true. Allen pays me half in cash. I was saving up for after I got done with high school."

"But what of the half he pays you in check?" Remus questioned. "Did the Dursleys ever give you an allowance? Use the money to provide you with new clothes and school supplies?"

Harry shrugged. "No. I always got Dudley's hand-me-downs."

"What do you think they did with the money?"

Harry chewed thoughtfully on a bit of bacon. He swallowed, "I don't really know. There haven't been any real differences around Number four since I started working. They still get the same channels on satellite, still buy the same brands of food and whatnot. Dudley still gets everything he wants." Harry's brow wrinkled as a thought occurred to him. "Come to think of it, everything has been exactly the same since I started working. It didn't even change last year when Vernon made senior vice-president. I would have thought they'd have bought new appliances or something..."

Jennifer snorted, "Ha. I think I know what's being done with the cash, but I don't think I could prove it."

Allen nodded in agreement. "Your cousin is rather known as being quite the troublemaker, isn't he, Harry?"

Harry scowled as all the pieces clicked into place. "You mean to tell me that _my_ money that _I_ worked damn hard for is being used to pay off the people Dudley torments! To keep that bloody whale out of prison!" Harry jumped to his feet and started pacing. Unknown to him, the air started crackling with barely-suppressed magic.

Remus hastily got to his feet, alarmed. "Calm down, Harry. I know you're upset, but let's look at this logically, alright?"

Harry ground his teeth together. "I don't want to look at this logically! I want to go over there and beat Vernon and Dudley both to a pulp! They've been... not stealing, exactly, but completely abusing what little trust in them I had!"

Allen felt he should intervene. "Harry! Sit!"

At the unquestionable tone of authority in Allen's voice, Harry, having been preconditioned into almost scary compliance, sat heavily on the floor. Harry blinked in astonishment at his own reaction before chuckling mirthlessly and climbing back onto the kitchen chair. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't worry about it." Remus said as he, too, sat. He picked up the notepad and looked over what he had written. "Though your original idea has merit, Harry, I really don't think that giving the Dursleys money is going to help in the long run. I talked with Allen a bit last night and this morning, and we think that paying them to emancipate you would only make them greedier than they already are. They would likely leave you alone for a bit, but I can almost guarantee they'd start bugging you about even more money, when they'd ran through the original payment."

Harry nodded, seeing the sense behind the words. "What can we do to keep them from doing so?"

Jennifer sat next to Allen and smiled, "We do this the legal way, of course."

"What?"

"Well, Harry, I know Allen has tried to get social services to intervene on your behalf numerous times, though nothing ever came of it. That sounds a bit suspicious to me; almost like Vernon might be using some of his money to keep them from interfering. However, what we need to do is bring the situation to the attention of a solicitor. From there, we can open an investigation with the police and Her Majesty's tax assessors, as well as getting a social worker assigned that hasn't had contact with the Dursley family in the past."

Remus nodded his assent, "She's right. If we go through the legal channels, you just might get to see the Dursley family fall apart. If all the suspicions prove to be correct, your uncle would likely end up serving a very long prison sentence. Your aunt, as well, though it depends on how involved she was. And, though there is no official record of your cousin's activities, he would likely end up in a prison cell to match his father's. Without his parents to bail him out of the trouble he causes, it would only be a matter of time."

Harry smirked at the thought of Dudley in prison. "How long will all this take?"

Allen shrugged, "I don't know, Harry. Did you want to pursue this idea, or try your original plan?"

Harry finished off his breakfast and stood to take the plate and fork to the sink, "Though my idea wouldn't take as long, I quite agree with Remus. Giving them money now would only lead to them wondering where I got it, and them realizing that if I had paid them once, that I would do it again. I don't want that to happen. I don't care if it takes months or years; they are not now nor have they ever been good people. If they're removed from society at large, I can't help but believe the world will be a vastly better place."

Harry didn't notice the proud looks the three adults traded as he washed his plate and set it to dry on the rack. Allen glanced at the clock, "Ay! Is that the time? I'd best get going before I'm late." It was eight thirty. "And Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You and Remus have today until next Wednesday off, unless we get really busy. Should that happen, I'll call you in."

"Thanks, Allen."

"Don't mention it." Allen smiled at Harry before hurrying out to his car.

The kitchen was silent for a moment before Jennifer turned to Harry and tsked at the sight of his clothes. "I believe we should make a list of what we need to get done in the next few days, don't you?" Harry and Remus both nodded. "You need to get some clothes and other personal sundries, we need to get started on your room, your truck needs registered, we need to locate a trustworthy solicitor," she listed everything on her fingers, "and when was the last time you had a checkup?"

"Like a physical? Dunno... I think the last time I saw a doctor for anything was when I was eight. I had a broken arm." Harry began clearing the table, putting the leftovers in the fridge and setting the dishes in the sink.

"What about your eyes? Teeth?"

"I haven't had my eyes checked since I got glasses. That was back in first year primary. They're still the same blasted pair. And I don't think I've ever been to a dentist."

Jennifer sighed in exasperation. "Then I think we should see about getting that out of the way in the next few days as well."

"Sounds like we're going to be busy." Remus observed.

"To say the very least." Harry agreed.

Remus handed Jennifer the list of what they had to do that he'd jotted down while she was talking. "Though Harry is definitely in need of clothes and whatnot, might I suggest we start with his room? Allen told me that Harry wants a wood floor. While I can transfigure the floor to look like what he wanted, it wouldn't last forever. However, I can use magic to secure the flooring down once we pick it up from the store. Shouldn't take more than an hour or so. If we make sure to paint the walls first, we won't even have to put down a drop-cloth."

Jennifer made some notations on the paper Remus had handed her. "Okay, how about this? We can go and get the supplies to do Harry's room this morning, as well as a few items like a couple of changes of clothes and a toothbrush. We'll do what we can on the room today, and finish it up tomorrow. If we're done early enough tomorrow, we'll get the furniture and whatever else Harry needs to round out the room." She leveled a Look at Harry, implying she would accept no arguments from him about what she was to say next, "Monday, we'll get your teeth and eyes checked as well as your overall health. If that's done early enough, we'll see about that solicitor and getting your truck registered. If not, we can do that Tuesday. If we do get it all done by the end of the day Monday, then we'll all have a day off to breathe." Jenn laughed.

Harry shrugged, "Sounds good to me." He finished washing up the breakfast dishes. "I must admit, Remus, I was a bit surprised to see you here so early."

"Yeah, well, about that..."

Jennifer brightened, "He's going to be staying in the guest room. Allen and I figured it would be easiest, especially since he was staying at a hotel."

"Nifty. How long?"

Remus shrugged, "As long as is necessary."

Jenn folded up their to-do list and tucked it into her pocket. "Well, guys, let's get going. The day isn't getting any longer."

A half an hour later, Remus, Harry, and Jennifer piled out of her station wagon at a strip-mall that included a home improvement store, a one-hour optical specialist, a cellular distributer, two clothing stores, and an arts and crafts store. "Jennifer?"

"Yes Remus?"

"Why don't we have Harry's eyes checked today? That optician says they're open until noon, and they take walk-ins."

"What do you think, Harry?"

"I don't mind. Either way's okay." Harry followed Remus and Jenn to the optician. After a short wait, Harry was escorted into the exam room. When the exam concluded, the optometrist remarked, "I honestly don't know how you've been functional with these," indicating Harry's old glasses.

Harry shrugged, "Didn't matter much. But I would like to update the frames while I'm here."

"Of course, of course. Just point out which ones you want to the lady at the desk. The lab's not all that busy today. You should be able to pick up your new glasses in about forty-five minutes, once you've selected the frames you want."

Remus and Harry looked over the frames in the waiting area before asking Jennifer which she thought looked best. They eventually decided on rectangular rimless ones. "You know, Harry, you might want to consider getting contacts someday."

Harry shrugged, "I don't think so. They seem like an awful lot of work. That, and I don't think I want something actually touching my eyeballs all the time."

"Actually, if you ever get tired of the glasses, we can get your eyes fixed." Remus mentioned.

"You can do that?" Harry exclaimed.

"Your companion is quite right, Mr. Potter. Lasik surgery is quite common; it corrects the shape of your eye, making it so that you can focus properly."

Harry jumped and whirled around. "Don't do that!"

"Didn't mean to startle you. I just noticed you had selected a pair of frames?"

Harry nodded and handed them to the woman. "Thank you. They should be ready in about forty-five minutes to an hour." She tucked the frames into a small box, along with the slip the optometrist had written Harry's prescription on. "You're welcome to wait here or return later."

"Thanks. I think we'll probably pick them up later," Harry looked to Jenn and Remus. Jennifer nodded.

They exited the optometrist's office and strolled to one of the nearby clothing stores. "You shouldn't get too much just yet, Harry. Remember, you don't yet have anywhere to store it."

Harry nodded at Jenn's good thinking and disappeared into the store to pick out a couple of changes of clothes. Remus rolled his eyes at Harry's quick-disappearing act. "I think I'll go give him a hand."

"Okay. I'll meet you both in front of the hardware store in half an hour. I've got a couple of things to get for myself." She reached into her purse, "Here. Make sure he accepts it. I know he's now got money of his own, but... Allen and I... we _want_ to do this."

Remus smiled and took the cash. "I'll try, but I'm not going to promise anything."

"That's all I ask." Jennifer ducked out of the store and strode towards the Virgin Mobile dealer. The door buzzed as she pulled it open and she was greeted by a bored-looking teenaged girl with bad skin and purple hair.

"Can I help you?"

Jennifer nodded, "I hope so. I wanted to get a phone for my son." _Well, it may not be technically true, but that _is_ how I feel about him. Besides, the clerk doesn't need my life story._

"Then I guess you've come to the right place. What type of phone does he want?" The girl motioned for Jennifer to follow her to a display of different types.

"I don't know... It's a surprise for him."

The girl grinned, "Let me guess, he just got his driver's licence?"

Jennifer returned the smile, "Close. His first car."

The girl sniggered, "My mum did the same thing. Does he go to public or private school?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Helps me figure out if he needs something cheap or something flashy."

"He attends Stonewall."

"Okay, no top-of-the-line models. I just finished there. The slimy kids will steal anything not nailed down. Who is your son? I might know him."

Jennifer paused for a second, "Harry Potter."

The girl scrunched her forehead. "Harry Potter? Hmm... Little guy, year behind me in class. Gets picked on all the time by Polkis and the other juvenile delinquents. Odd, I thought he lived with his aunt and uncle?"

Jennifer groaned mentally. "He did. My husband and I are... adopting him, I guess you could say."

The girl nodded. "Good. If anyone needs different folks, it's him. Does this mean something happened to the Dursleys? Please tell me yes. Their stupid pig - I mean _son_ - once dislocated my shoulder when I wouldn't kiss him back when I was thirteen."

Jennifer looked shocked for a moment. "Not yet, but we've got someone investigating them. Why don't you give me your name and number, just in case the solicitor wants to hear your story?"

"Sure." She grabbed a business card for the store and a pen. On the back of the card she scribbled down her number and name. "I'm Sherri O'Brien." Jennifer shook her hand and introduced herself. "Now, before my boss gets upset, back to the phones. Like I said, you don't want something too extravagant. It would just end up stolen. I likewise wouldn't advise a flip phone, they'd just get broken. However, you don't want the cheapest phone, either, 'cos then he'd just be laughed at. That leaves you with one of these three options." Jennifer listened as Sherri explained the features of each of the phones before deciding on the one that Harry could change the cover of, in order to customize it a bit. Another ten minutes later, and the phone was activated and ready for use. Jennifer thanked Sherri for all her help, and tucked the card in her pocket. She hurriedly caught up with Remus and Harry outside the hardware store.

"Sorry I'm late, guys. I ran into an old classmate of yours, Harry. She just graduated, Sherri O'Brien."

Harry thought for a moment, "Really tall, purple hair?"

Jennifer nodded and explained about the girl in the shop. She handed Harry the phone. "I've already put my mobile number in it, Harry. I want you to keep it with you, especially when you're away from the house, and to call me if you need _anything_."

"Okay." Harry tucked the phone into his pocket. "Want me to put these bags in the car? I won't be but a minute." Jennifer nodded and handed Harry the keys, as well as the bag from Virgin.

"Jenn?"

"Yes Remus?"

"Just to let you know, there are some areas where the mobile won't work. Too much interference." He mimed a wand.

"Oh, I didn't realize. Just make sure he calls me before he goes to those places, okay? And I would feel a lot better if you went with him any time he has to go to those places, at least until you can tell me, in all honesty, that he can defend himself."

Remus grinned, "I see we think alike, madam."

Harry returned at that point, so the trio entered the home improvement center. Harry explained his vision for the ceiling and walls to Remus as they made their way to the flooring section. Harry quickly spotted a rich golden wood with a fine grain that was just what he had pictured for his room. Jennifer indicated she'd talk to the store clerk to make sure they bought enough, and told Harry and Remus to go after the paint they would need.

As they made their way through the massive store, Remus asked, "So you want the ceiling to show a sky scene?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, and I was thinking I could get some of those plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars to make it mimic nighttime."

Remus smirked, "You don't have to go through so much trouble. There's a permanent charm you can use that makes a ceiling reflect the sky outside. It's a little complicated to cast, but I'm sure if I looked into it, I could do so."

Harry reflected on that for a moment, "But I don't want it to show the sky when it's raining or cloudy. Just some blue sky and fluffy clouds, and stars at night."

Remus laughed, "I'm sure it can be modified to do just that."

"Neat. Looks like paint is over there." Harry pointed. "About the walls, though, I don't care what magic can do. I've always wanted to do a mural and now I can."

"Of course, Harry." Remus directed Harry's attention to the display of paint shades. "Go on and get what you need. I'll track down a worker for you."

Harry nodded and thumbed through the color samples, taking his decisions up to where Remus stood with an employee by the paint mixer. "I need half gallons of these four, a gallon each of these two, and two gallons of this one." Ten minutes later, Jennifer caught up with them, saying that the flooring would be ready for them when they were ready to leave. Remus and Jennifer chatted as the worker mixed the paint and Harry went in search of brushes.

They returned to the Kellerman house an hour later. Harry was amazed at the difference in his vision with the new glasses. He no longer saw a halo around everything and was able to read the text on the street signs without squinting. They deposited the paint in the middle of Harry's bedroom floor. "Remus, Harry, why don't you go ahead and remove the cot and the table and chairs? Hedwig, too." Hedwig hooted sleepily when she heard her name called. "No, go back to sleep, lovely. I'm going to get the step-ladder from the closet." They nodded and soon the room was cleared and Jenn had returned with not only the ladder, but a paint roller and tray, as well.

"Okay, Harry. What color do you want where?" Remus asked, removing his jacket and rolling up the sleeves on his button-down shirt.

Harry inspected the cans and used the tool they'd received with them to open one. "This one on the ceiling and that wall." He pointed to the wall that his door was a part of, "and that one," pointing to the wall with the closet door. Remus picked up the can and moved to the wall with the closet. "Don't worry about running out, there's two gallons of that color. I'll be working on this wall with these," he set aside all the half-gallon cans, as well as the two single-gallon colors. "I want to keep that wall white," he pointed to the wall that held the window.

"Sure thing, boss." Jennifer grinned at Harry before pouring some of the paint into the roller tray and starting on the ceiling with the ladder and long-poled roller.

Two hours later, Remus and Jennifer were done with their part and were watching Harry paint his mural. The ceiling and two walls were a light blue. The wall Harry was working on started out a similar light blue, but darkened steadily to almost black near the floor. There were light brown and dark brown streaks, and copious amounts of green in different shades. It took Remus a moment to realize that Harry was painting the interior of a particularly lush, dense forest. He worked quickly, but every stroke of his brush heightened the detail. After another three hours, Harry stepped back and critically looked over his handiwork. "Hmm..." He opened the last can of paint, and grabbed a fresh brush. A vine that seemed to grow out of the floor gained tiny pink flowers all along its length. Harry re-capped the can of paint and stared at the mural again. "Guess that's the best I can do until it dries and I can add more detail with the smaller brushes." Harry seemed to be talking to himself. _More detail?_ Remus thought. _How on earth can he put in _more_ detail? _Harry turned around and jumped, "Sorry." He took a breath, trying to calm his pulse. "I didn't realize you were still here." He inclined his head in the direction of the mural, "Don't worry about that just yet. It isn't done, so it still doesn't look right. But the rest of it will have to wait until the current layer of paint dries. I plan to add the details in stages, anyway." His stomach rumbled. "Anyone else up for a bite to eat?"

Remus nodded and followed Jennifer and Harry to the kitchen where they enjoyed a light meal. It was too early to call it dinner, though too late to consider it lunch. Harry solved the crisis of what to name it by calling it 'lupper, kinda like brunch, only later.'

After the meal, Remus and Harry carried in the boxes of floor boards. Jennifer and Harry were instructed to hand Remus the pieces as he fit them together, securing them in place with a permanent sticking charm and trimming them where needed with his wand. Putting down the floor took all of an hour and a half. With that completed, they noticed it was only six o'clock. Jennifer pulled out their to-do list and crossed off several things. "Okay, we've got a couple of options now. We can go to the furniture store yet tonight, and arrange to have everything delivered tomorrow, or we can knock off now, and relax the rest of the evening."

"Normally, I'd be all for taking the rest of the night to relax, but... Soonest begun is soonest done, right?" Harry said.

Remus nodded, "I agree. We only have a limited amount of time, and I had hoped to begin showing Harry how to use that wand of his before we had to deal with work, too."

"Makes sense. Let me leave a note for Allen, just in case he gets home early." She scribbled down where they were going on the marker-board on the refrigerator. As they piled back into the station wagon, she asked Harry, "What sort of furniture did you have in mind?"

Harry replied, "Something... alive."

Jennifer shook her head, mumbling something about crazy wizard artists. "I take it you don't mean 'Shaker Oak' or 'Modern Walnut?'"

Harry shook his head, "No, something that flows more. Glass and metal. If I wanted wooden furniture, wouldn't I just have asked Nigel to make it for me?"

"Touche," Jenn sighed.

A little while later, they parked outside a furniture boutique. Harry led the way and after exchanging pleasantries with the clerk, described what he was looking for. Much to Remus and Jennifer's astonishment, the clerk flashed a toothy grin and led them directly to a bedroom set that Harry obviously liked. "Almost perfect. Does the bedframe come in a canopy?"

The clerk nodded, "Aye, and there are a couple of other options, depending on how much you're looking to spend."

"Cost doesn't matter, Harry, just pick out what you want." Jennifer said.

Harry examined the set and thumbed through the little picture catalogue the showed the different options. He settled on the canopy-style cast-aluminum bedframe, a pedestal end-table with a bluish glass top, a matching glass and aluminum bookcase, and the smaller version of the desks that matched the set. Jenn arranged for everything to be delivered at ten the next morning, and they went back home.

Allen arrived shortly after they did, and was given a quick run-down of what they'd managed to accomplish that day. He, like Remus, expressed disbelief that Harry's mural would be able to be any more detailed. Harry laughed and mentioned that there was always room for improvement in any art.

Everyone went to bed tired that night, yet all were satisfied about how well everything seemed to be coming together.

* * *

The second time Harry woke up in his new room, he didn't suffer any confusion about where he was. He put on his glasses and grabbed the clothes he wanted to wear for the day. After his shower, he reveled in the feeling of clothes that were completely, blessedly _new_. Knowing that Dudley had never even seen his jeans and t-shirt, let alone worn them put a smile a mile wide on Harry's face. He even liked his new glasses for that same reason - not that Dudley had worn his old ones, though the idiot _had_ broken them numerous times.

He stopped by the den, where Hedwig had been temporarily relocated until after the furniture could be delivered, and refilled her food and water dishes. He spent a few moments petting and talking to her, before his stomach reminded him that he had yet to eat breakfast. Harry then joined his family in the kitchen where porridge was the meal of the morning.

Remus looked up when he heard the door open and promptly broke into laughter at Harry's sudden scowl. "Don't worry, Harry, I didn't like porridge when I was your age, either. The trick is to add enough jam and milk to it that you don't taste it."

Harry shook his head, "Whatever you say, Remus." He dished himself a bowl of the lumpy grey substance. He poked it experimentally with his spoon before sighing. The Dursleys had never allowed him to add so much as a sugar cube to his porridge. He shook his head, reminding himself that this wasn't the Dursleys'. He reached for the jar of raspberry jam and spooned some into the porridge. He then added a bit of milk and mixed it until it turned a light shade of purple. He carefully took a taste and realized Remus was right. It was edible, if you added enough other stuff to it to cover the taste. He brightened again. "So... What're we doing today?"

Jennifer checked the list. "Your furniture should be here no later than ten-thirty; after all that's been set up, we'll go back out to finish getting the necessities you'll need for your room. Stuff like an alarm clock, a couple of lamps, that sort of thing."

"Joy. More shopping." Harry muttered, earning a glare from Jennifer.

"Watch it, or I'll make you go by yourself!" Jenn threatened, though not meaning any of it.

"No! The horror, the horror!" Harry teased back, melodramatically clutching his chest.

The four of them chatted over the remainder of breakfast, until Allen had to leave for the shop. Harry helped Jennifer clean up the breakfast mess again. When everything had been put away, Remus asked Harry to run and get his wand and meet him in the den. They had a bit of time to kill until the furniture showed, and Remus planned to use it productively.

"Okay. Now, since you've only done accidental magic previously, this is going to be a bit different. The first thing I want you to do is find your center of magic." Remus was sitting in an armchair in the den and Harry was sprawled on the sofa.

"How, exactly, do I do that? What does it look like?" Harry asked, twirling his wand like a baton.

"Are you familiar with meditation?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, of course."

"Have you done it before?" Harry nodded again. "Good. Go ahead and meditate, make sure you hold your wand while doing so. While meditating, turn your attention inwards. You should eventually find your magical center; it looks different to everyone. Now, the effect we will be going for is simply light. What you want to do, once you've located your center, is to think '_Lumos_' and guide a part of your magic through yourself to your wand, picturing light surrounding the wand's tip."

Harry climbed off the sofa and stretched, before toeing off his battered sneakers and dropping gracefully into a cross-legged position on the floor. He held his wand loosely in his right hand. Taking a few deep breaths, he entered a meditative trance, allowing his mind to wander a bit. _Interesting that meditation is part of magic. I would assume it's this relationship that explains why most of the more esoteric faiths lean towards meditation as a connection to the divine. It makes me wonder, though, how it came about that the modern wizarding world is so isolated from everyone else. I do hope Remus plans on going over some history..._ Promising himself to further explore his train of thought at a later date, Harry released his thoughts and turned his attention inward. He felt himself pulled towards his chest, and after what felt like hours of floating in an expanse of darkness, Harry saw his magic. It moved him, it was beautiful. It appeared as glowing threads, lines, ropes, and cables of power in every color imaginable. He noticed there were several places where these threads came together in massive balls of energy, yet the largest was centered in his chest.

Harry reached out and touched a thread that he felt embodied 'light.' The thread stuck to his consciousness, and he guided it through his shoulder and down his arm, to his waiting wand, thinking _lumos_ the entire time. When he felt he had accomplished the task, he pulled his consciousness back to the surface and opened his eyes. Remus was smiling at him.

"You've done well," he indicated the blue-white light surrounding the end of Harry's wand. "To 'turn it off,' so-to-speak, just say _'Nox'_ and picture the magic you used returning to where it came from."

Harry did so, and saw the light wink off. "Remus?"

"Yes?"

Harry struggled for a moment, trying to find words that would adequately describe what he had seen. "Is it always so... Beautiful?"

Remus shrugged, "Every wizard sees something different. Not all wizards are even capable of reaching their center. That you can do so, and have on your first try, gives us an indication that you are at least above-average as far as magical strength is concerned."

Harry slowly got to his feet, "Is it normal for there to be numerous magical centers? I mean, I saw these ropes of light, but they sort of knotted together in different places. The biggest knot was in my chest, though."

Remus was stunned, he had never heard of anything like that before. _I think I will need to talk with Albus. Soon._ He didn't let it show on his face, though, and instead repeated, "It's different for everyone, Harry. However, as your furniture should be showing soon, shall we come back to this later?"

Harry nodded, "Will I need to do that meditation thing every time? I mean, you didn't have to when you were demonstrating."

Remus shook his head, "No, this was just to show you where the magic comes from and how it gets to your wand. You should be able to do the _Lumos_ spell whenever you want to, now. Part of why I had you think that word while moving the magic was so that your brain would form a particular set of responses to automatically guide your magic that particular way with that word."

"So, my brain saw what I was doing while thinking '_lumos_' and connected the word to the action."

"Precisely."

"Then... Does it matter what word is used, if the result is the same? Wouldn't 'light' have been just as useful, if not more so?"

Remus thought for a moment before answering, "Though the language doesn't matter - and some of the more powerful wizards don't even use a word-trigger - it's usually best to learn spells in a language other than your day-to-day language, particularly if, like _Lumos_, they have no wand movement and are, instead, solely a word-triggered spell."

"So it's intent, not the actual word, that matters."

"Correct." Remus opened the door to the den. "I think the delivery men just arrived, so you might want to tuck your wand out of sight."

Harry did just that as he followed Remus back to his bedroom. Remus helped moving the cot out of the room once more, and Harry double-checked to make sure everything else was stowed safely in the closet. Jennifer showed up a few minutes later, leading a couple of burly men that were carrying various boxes between them. Harry indicated where he wanted the bed to be placed, and the men quickly got to work assembling it. They then disappeared downstairs, followed closely by Jennifer, only to return with the box springs, and again with the mattress. The desk, table, and bookshelf likewise were brought up and assembled. When the workers finally left, Harry smiled at his room. The bed was centered under the window, with the table next to it, in the corner that joined the mural. His bookshelf was to one side of his door, and the desk to the other.

"Wow, it's starting to look like a room." Jennifer mentioned.

"Right. You mentioned more shopping today?" Harry asked.

"Mm-hmm. Why don't you take a few minutes to write out a list of what you want to round out the room? I have a couple of phone calls to make."

Harry nodded and dug a notebook and pen out of the closet. Remus helped Harry compile the list of what he would need, and about a half an hour later, they met up with Jennifer in the kitchen. "Done?" Harry handed her the list they had created.

"Looks good... This shouldn't take too long. Though, I imagine getting everything to its place when we get back will take considerably longer."

"Too true." Harry smiled. "Shall we, then?"

Jennifer nodded and the three of them spent much of the day going from shop to shop picking up things like sheets and blankets and pillows. Hangars and some more clothes, an alarm clock, and a couple of lamps. They took a break for lunch, and afterwards, Harry spent almost three hours in an arts and crafts store picking out not only things for his artwork, but things to round out the decor in his room as well; including three spools of a decorative plastic chain that had silk leaves woven through it and several yards of a heavy dark green brocade cloth that had a subtle leaf pattern woven into it. When they returned to the house, it took all three of them the better part of an hour to unload the car.

While Harry worked at unpacking boxes and bags, Remus cleared the debris away, and Jennifer was making supper. After the last bag was put away, Harry asked Remus, "Is there a way to... permanently stick things together with magic? I know you used magic to put down the floor, but is that permanent or will it wear off with time?"

"Though not permanent, it won't wear off. What I did was rather like creating a strong magical glue to hold the boards in place. You can still remove them, using muggle methods, or end the sticking charm to remove them. A permanent sticking charm can't be removed by _any_ methods."

"Why not?"

"Because it fuses the items stuck together, rather like melting two colors of wax together. When it cools, you can still see the two colors, but you still only have one piece of wax."

"I see. Can a permanent sticking charm be used on anything?"

"Pretty much, though living things resist the charm and causes it to fail most of the time."

Harry nodded, it made sense. "I was wondering if you could teach me something that would make it so I could quickly get the drapes for my bed made. I know Jenn doesn't own a sewing machine, and doing them by hand will take forever."

Remus laughed. "It's good to see you're already starting to think like a wizard, Harry. And, of course, I'll show you. However, given your goal, I think it would be more accurate to use a sewing charm instead."

It took Remus about ten minutes to show Harry what to do, and Harry was in the middle of hanging the newly-fashioned draperies on his bed when Jennifer called them to dinner. Sometime while Harry and Remus were otherwise busy, Allen had arrived home from work. The four of them sat down to shepherd's pie and discussed their days.

After dinner, Harry returned to his room and set about using the silk 'vine' he'd purchased. He wound the chain through the metal of his furniture and used lengths of it to create a mock-curtain across the window and the foot of his bed. The cloth curtains were pulled back and secured with smaller lengths of the fake plant. When Harry fell asleep, he realized he still needed a chest of drawers and something in which to organize his art supplies.

While Harry was busy in his room, Remus, Allen, and Jennifer were discussing how to legally get Harry away from the Dursleys, hopefully removing the family from the neighborhood entirely in the process.

"I know a good solicitor we can approach. She's honest, trustworthy, and really loves to see people get what they deserve." Remus said.

Allen opened a bottle of beer, "Is she... Aware of how we do things?"

Remus laughed. "Though she's not muggle-born, she did marry one. She met him while they were in law school together, so she has licences to practice in both the magical and muggle arenas."

"How do we approach her?" Jennifer asked as she finished up washing the supper dishes. "Do we contact her as concerned muggles? Or do you approach her as a wizard?"

"I think both, given that the situation is both." Remus replied.

"Makes sense." Allen conceded. "Did you need me there, or will the two of you be able to handle things?"

"Actually, I think she would be able to come here to talk. You will probably want to meet her yourself, in any case." Remus finished his own beer and stood, "Should I send her an owl?"

* * *

Monday was a grey and rain-filled day. Harry surprised himself by sleeping in. He didn't wake up until almost nine-thirty. He hurried through his shower and other morning routines before stumbling towards the kitchen. Once again, he heard voices from the other side of the door, but rather than stop and listen in - he'd learned that lesson thankyouverymuch - he went ahead and entered. Allen had already left for work, but Remus and Jennifer were sitting at the table talking with a tallish woman with a heart-shaped face and long black hair.

"Good morning, Harry. This is Andromeda Tonks. She's a solicitor. We were just telling her a little about you." Jennifer said. "I also saved a plate of breakfast for you. It's in the fridge."

"Thanks. Good to meet you," he offered the woman his hand, "I'm Harry Potter."

The woman smiled. "I know. You can call me Andie, if you wish."

"Thanks." Harry smiled at her and turned to put his breakfast in the microwave.

When it dinged, Harry grabbed his plate and sat at the table. Jenn exchanged a meaningful glance with Remus. "I think I'll leave you to talk, then. I'll be in the lounge, should you need me."

Remus likewise made his excuses and left. Andromeda watched as Harry finished his breakfast and rinsed off the plate before getting out a notebook and pen from her briefcase. "Like I said before, Harry, you can call me Andie. I received an owl from Remus yesterday evening outlining your basic issue, and it also hinted towards some suspicions concerning your aunt, uncle, and cousin. What I would like to do is hear your side of things. Go ahead and tell me whatever you wish about your relatives, and I'll make some notes. From there, we'll see who we will need to contact for further investigation. Just a quick suggestion; unless we can convince a social services representative otherwise, you will likely be sent back to them until the investigation is over. These types of investigations have been known to take months or even years."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Quick question, though, before I get into all that. Remus sent you an owl?"

Andromeda nodded, "Yes. I have clients in both the magical and muggle worlds. Though I'm a witch, I married a muggle."

"Oh. Okay then." Harry thought for a moment. "Well, it all began, I suppose, when I showed up on the Dursleys' doorstep after my parents died. They were more than a little upset that I was there, but I don't remember much about when I was really little, so I'll skip ahead a bit to when I started school.

"On the first day of class, the teacher was calling names and making sure everyone that was supposed to be there was there. She called out 'Potter, Harry' and I kept looking around wondering who that person was. I hadn't heard my name in reference to me until that point. I was usually addressed as 'boy' or 'you' at home. When they - the Dursleys, I mean - were feeling particularly irritated with my presence, it was 'freak.' After that first day, most of the other kids left me alone. I guess they thought I was stupid or weird for not knowing my own name. The few that did want to talk to me eventually were driven off by Dudley. He would beat them up to leave me alone.

"In first primary, my teacher found out I was having problems seeing the blackboard, and sent a note to my aunt and uncle. Though they did take me to get glasses, I was locked in my cupboard for a month and no meals for a week for the expense."

"Hold on a moment, 'cupboard?'"

"Yeah. It was my bedroom until I turned eleven. The cupboard under the stairs." Harry took a deep breath and continued. "Anyway, when I was eight, Dudley tripped me at the top of the stairs and I fell, breaking my arm on the way down. That was the only time I got to see a doctor, that I remember. I'm sure I saw one when I was a baby, to get immunized, but nothing else until that point, and nothing since. That particular incident was at the beginning of summer, so I didn't even get to leave the cupboard for school that time. I think it was most of the summer that I was locked in there. They let me out once every day to use the bathroom and eat a slice of bread and a glass of milk."

"Hold up. I really think you've got enough with what little you've told me to bring a case of abuse and neglect against the Dursleys. I really don't think I want to hear much more right now."

Harry smiled sadly, "That's alright. I've realized that my upbringing was anything but normal." Harry and Andromeda spent a couple of hours going over what sort of information to discuss with a social worker, before bringing Jenn and Remus back into the kitchen to go over the actions Vernon had taken regarding Dudley's behavior.

Andromeda didn't get a chance to leave until nearly five that evening. She took the card Jennifer had received from the clerk, Sherri, at the Virgin store and left the number for a social services worker that Andie had dealt with in the past. "She's a nice sort, and I'd be willing to say she'd do what was right, no matter how much she might be paid to look the other way."

"Thanks, Mrs. Tonks. You've been quite helpful." Jennifer showed her to the door.

"No problem. And Remus, next time, don't wait for something like this before getting in touch!" Remus looked properly chastised as he hugged the woman goodbye.

During dinner preparations, Jennifer informed Harry that Tuesday would be busy. "You've got your physical at ten, we still need to register your truck, and your dentist appointment is at two. Hopefully, we may yet have the evening to relax." She laughed.

Emotionally drained from the long discussion earlier, Harry fell asleep early that night.

* * *

**A/N2:** I'm still not happy about how parts of this chapter panned out, even after re-writing them several times. Please remember to let me know what you think. Particularly for this chapter. I don't feel it flows well with what I've written before, but that could just be me. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** If they were mine, do you think I'd be writing fanfic?

**A/N: **I am completely speechless at the response I've gotten from this story. I hadn't realized how popular AU tales were! I love everyone that's reviewed, and though I love the longer reviews that let me know where I need to clarify something, I treasure all of them. They're what spurred me to crank out over 20,000 words in a mere six days. Gotta love positive reinforcement!

I think I should take this time to reiterate that Harry is STRAIGHT in this story, as is Remus. If I do decide to include slash at any point, it will likely be a background pairing and something really odd, that I've not seen done before. Also, for everyone that wants to see the Dursleys get their just desserts, stick around. It'll happen.

I don't really have an outline for this story, and am open to suggestions, so if you want to see someone show up or have an idea for something you want to see someone do, let me know. I know a couple of you have asked about Sirius. At this time, he's still in Azkaban. Since Ginny was hospitalized, I figured that the Weasley family likely used the winnings from the contest to pay medical bills, so Sirius never got to see the newspaper article cluing him in on Peter's location. A couple of other people expressed an interest in Severus. I do plan on having him come into the story to tutor Harry on potions, and I doubt he will let me write him as anything but his caustic self, though I do plan on putting him in his place insofar as his preconceptions about Harry are concerned.

Okay, so I reread what I've done thus far and found I'd FUBAR'd in chapter one. Harry mentions that Mike couldn't get his wife to wrap the Bday gift. I called her Amy, but in chappie two, it's Beatrice. Go with Bea. I tried to fix it, but when I did so, I ended up losing all my italics, bold, and other textual formatting. Grr.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Catching Up**

Remus dug through his suitcase and came up with a small handheld mirror. The mirror, itself, was obviously of muggle design, as its frame and handle were black plastic, but Albus Dumbledore had placed the charms on it to allow Remus to contact him whenever he needed to. Remus spared a moment to lament the loss of the days when another pair of mirrors - most decidedly _not_ of muggle origin - had circulated through the possession of four friends, nicknamed The Marauders. He no longer felt angry about the loss of his friends, yet there were moments even now, nearly twenty years later, when he was gripped with a gut-wrenching sense of sadness. He still wondered at how completely his life had changed in one small day. Remus shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering melancholia. When he felt that he had a better grip on his emotions, he activated the mirror. "Albus?"

The mirror fogged over, then the haze slowly disappeared to reveal Dumbledore's long beard, white hair, crooked nose, and twinkling blue eyes peering from behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. "Good evening, Remus. I trust all is well with Harry?"

"Of course. Well... Sort of." Remus never was able to lie to the headmaster.

"Oh? How so?"

Remus launched in on what he knew of Harry's situation and what his own suspicions were. "I've already contacted Andromeda Tonks about this."

Dumbledore was aghast at what had been described to him. He couldn't have inadvertently _caused_ this, could he? It was his decision, after all, that had left Harry at the Dursley residence... Albus was pulled from his guilty musings by Remus' concerned voice, "Albus?"

"So sorry, my boy, wandered a bit there. You said you contacted Andromeda?"

"Yes."

"Good thinking. Now, back to what you said earlier. Harry's now staying with this couple, the Kellermans?"

"Yes. I've spoken at length with both of them. They're good folks, and truly have Harry's best interests at heart."

Albus mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "That is good news. I assume you had to tell them of magic?"

Remus nodded, "Yes. I thought it only fair, considering they were kind enough to take us both in, and the Kellermans look on Harry like a surrogate son." Remus smiled a little, "In fact, Harry considers all the guys he works with to be his family. His relatives are just that to him - relatives."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, "Remus, whom else have you told?"

Remus flushed a bit, "Just Harry's coworkers. Tim Marshfield, Nigel Smythwick, and Mike, Beatrice and Ashley Peterson."

"Remus! Though I can understand telling Mr. and Mrs. Kellerman, I cannot believe you informed those others!"

Remus winced, "Albus, I -"

"It was irresponsible, Remus! I thought you had more sense than that." Albus was just getting wound up, Remus could tell.

"Albus?"

"You were always more inclined to follow the rules than your cohorts were, and even now, though you don't believe in the bias the laws are based on, you follow all the regulations regarding -"

"Albus!" Dumbledore jumped a little and stopped rambling. "Thank you, Albus, for your insight to my character, however I would _not_ have told them if A.) They couldn't handle the information, B.) They weren't important to Harry, C.) They seemed untrustworthy in any way, and D.) Harry hadn't asked me to! I know the Ministry regulations as well as you do. If anyone kicks up a fuss about it, I'll point out both that this is concerning the 'Boy-Who-Lived,' and that _nowhere_ in the Ministry do they state explicitly what constitutes a family. Harry thinks of the guys as his brothers, Albus, and Mike's daughter is as much Harry's niece as if they shared blood. You _know_ that the situation is more than a little unique to begin with. Even if we weren't dealing with these people, if it were the Dursleys instead, there would still come a time for at least partial disclosure to those that Harry keeps close, even if only to allow him to maintain friendships I'm sure he will need in the months and years ahead."

Dumbledore sighed. "I apologize, Remus. I was only thinking of Harry's safety."

"I know you were, Albus, but remember; _you_ picked _me_ for this job, and I'm going to do it to the best of my ability. That includes taking what actions I feel necessary and revealing what information to whomever I deem should the need arise. You know me, Albus. You know I don't normally do things without thinking them through."

"Yes, Remus. And I must apologize once again."

Remus smiled, "Just don't let it happen again."

"Right. Back to your suspicions about the Dursleys, though. It pains me that Harry was forced to endure treatment such as that at their hands. Please, tell me more of what you hope to accomplish." Remus outlined what their goals regarding Harry's muggle relations. Albus was silent for a moment, thinking on the issue. "It seems to me, dear boy, that with subtle application of the right sorts of magic, the investigators' jobs would be made much easier. Also, I don't think that a confession from the Dursleys would quite work the way we wanted. Would you have any objection about hosting an auror for a week or two? I'm certain we could get one assigned to the case..."

Remus thought a moment. "It _would_ be advantageous to have a similar investigation going on in the Ministry. After all, most of this centers on a wizard. Who do you have in mind?"

"I was considering Nymphadora Tonks, actually. You're already working with her mother, so there shouldn't be any issues in that area. She's fully aware of the muggle world, and can move about in it almost undetectable. She recently completed the auror program, including the mentorship to a ranking auror. I've a few people in the Ministry that owe me a favor or two. It would be easy to get her assigned to the case."

Remus nodded, "Sounds like a good choice. When should we expect her?"

Albus shook his head, "I'm not sure at the moment. I'll call or send Fawkes with a specific time, once I know."

"Thank you, Albus."

"And thank you, Remus, for agreeing to all of this. I must admit, though, it's turned out a bit differently than I'd hoped."

"For me, as well."

"Good night, my boy, and keep me posted."

"Will do. Sleep well." The mirror fogged again and Remus was left looking at his own reflection.

* * *

Harry placed the well-thumbed, three-month out-of-date magazine back into the stand by the hard plastic chair he had been sitting in when the nurse called his name. He was led to a small exam room that had pictures of miscellaneous body parts on the wall. The nurse was an older woman who gave the distinct impression of having been the unfortunate victim of a botched mummification. She took Harry's blood pressure and temperature as well as noting his height - five foot seven - and weight. She muttered something to herself about him being about twenty pounds underweight. Harry ignored the comment. After a lengthy wait, the doctor arrived and over the course of the next hour found Harry to be completely fit, though a shade underweight.

"I'm glad that's over. I don't like being poked and prodded like that." Harry mentioned to Jennifer over lunch. It was just the two of them. Remus had mentioned he had some things to do in the wizarding world, and said that he may as well get them out of the way while Harry had his appointments.

"I don't think _anyone_ likes going to the doctor." Jenn swirled some pasta onto her fork. "But it's good that we know there's nothing seriously wrong with you... Other than the obvious."

Harry, who had been nodding in agreement until that point, stopped and stared directly at Jenn. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jenn shrugged, "Well... I already knew you were nuts, but at least we know you're a _healthy_ nuts."

"You... You... Erg!" Harry groaned. "It's because I draw, isn't it?"

Jenn nodded, "Likely. It's been said that there's a fine line between genius and madness. So long as you don't start coming after us with cutlery, I don't mind. You make life a bit more interesting."

Harry chuckled at the thought of cornering Jenn with spoon in hand. When she asked what he was laughing about, he told her. "See? That's what I mean. You make life interesting."

"Whatever you say, Jennifer. Whatever you say." Lunch was over far more quickly than Harry had hoped. He had heard gruesome horror stories about dentists ever since he was in primary school. Suffice it to say he was _not_ looking forward to his own appointment. He was granted a reprieve of sorts when Jenn glanced at her watch coming out of the restaurant.

"It's barely eleven thirty. How about we get the plates for your truck before going to the dentist? That way I can drop you off over at the shop on the way home and you can pick it up."

"Sounds like a good idea." An hour later, Harry was regretting his words. They had been standing in line for well over forty minutes and the queue had only progressed three feet. He was about to ask if they couldn't just do this by post, when another three tellers, obviously just back from their own lunches, opened windows. Though still slow, the line was obviously moving now. With only fifteen minutes to spare, they exited the office and headed towards their last appointment of the day.

The appointment at the dentist's office took surprisingly little time. Harry was a bit relieved when no cavities were found, though the X-Ray machine kind of freaked him a little. With newly polished teeth, Harry meandered from the exam room. He saw Dr. Granger in the hall, talking with his assistant, Jane. "Excuse me, Dr. Granger?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Is there a loo I could use?"

"Just down the hall, last door on the left."

"Thanks." Harry followed the dentist's instructions and upon leaving the water closet, literally ran into a girl about his own age, with unruly hair held in a loose bun by a familiarly-shaped piece of carved wood. "Sorry, didn't see you there," he offered the girl his hand.

"It was an accident, don't worry overmuch. I'm fine." She smiled at Harry. Harry saw that she had a bit of an over-bite, but was wearing braces. She also had dark brown eyes and a small dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. The girl ran her eyes over the boy that had accidentally knocked her off her feet. When she noted the scar on his forehead, her eyes widened.

"I'm sorry, but what's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned.

"You're _Harry Potter_," she breathed.

Harry grinned. "Not that I'm not curious as to how you know that, but you have me somewhat at a disadvantage."

She shook her head, and offered her hand, "Hermione Granger. Pleased to finally meet you."

"I'd introduce my self, but you've made doing so redundant. How did you know who I am, may I ask?"

"You're in several books I've read while at school. I wasn't sure until I saw your scar." She indicated his forehead. "There's a picture of you as a baby, supposedly just after the fall of Voldemort, that shows your scar in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._ Though most of the other books with you in them don't have your picture, your story has been written about in," she paused for a moment, "no fewer than _sixteen_ books!"

Harry chuckled softly, "I didn't know that. I think I'll have to get some of these books you're talking about, just to see what everyone expects of me. I take it from your little speech that you're a witch?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes. I'm between sixth and seventh year right now. I'm so looking forward to NEWTS at the end of the upcoming year."

"Pardon? NEWTS?"

"Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. They're the final exam for all students in their seventh year."

"Oh. So, you like tests?"

Hermione nodded, "A bit. I don't like the worry leading up to them, and I really don't like the worry about what grade I'll get, but I enjoy proving what I know."

"I know what you mean, I hate the worry, too. However, I don't particularly care about proving -"

"_There_ you are! Harry, you've been gone for more than ten minutes." Jennifer was looking down the corridor from the doorway to the waiting area. "Planning on leaving anytime soon?" She smirked at him.

"Sorry, Jenn. Be right there." Harry turned back to Hermione. "Sorry, Hermione. That's my ride. I should go. It's been really nice talking with you."

Hermione smiled, "You, too. You're not quite what I had expected. Not to mention I'd never thought that you'd ever show up in my parents' practice!"

Harry decided he liked this witch. She was obviously muggle-born, and could probably help him with his tutoring from Remus. "Do you have a pen?" he asked, reaching into his pockets for some paper.

Hermione handed him a pencil, "Will this work?"

"Thanks." Harry wrote down his cellular number and his name. "Give me a call sometime and we can chat some more. I don't really know that many people from the magical world."

Hermione's smile grew brighter. "I'd like that. Talk to you later, then."

"See you around." Harry went to where Jennifer was waiting impatiently in the lobby.

As they were walking out of the office, back towards Jennifer's car, Jenn said, "She was pretty..."

Harry snorted, "She's a witch, Jenn. She knew who I was before I even introduced myself."

Jenn smirked again, "Very pretty."

Harry groaned, "Stop it."

"What?" Jennifer tried, and failed, at sounding innocent. "I'm just saying she's pretty."

"Quit trying to fix me up with someone. At least wait until I'm out of school."

"I'm not doing anything..."

"Stop. Please. Just stop."

Jennifer laughed and started the car.

* * *

Remus apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. "Morning, Tom," he greeted the barkeep.

"And a good morning to you, Mr. Lupin. How can I be of service?"

"Hmm... Just a spot of tea. Waiting on someone."

"Of course. Find yourself a seat, laddie, and the tea'll be by shortly." Tom exchanged the glass he had been polishing for a chipped china teacup.

Remus located a seat and was halfway through the pot of tea when he was joined by a young witch with lurid pink hair. "Wotcher."

"Tonks." Remus smiled in greeting. "Nice hair. Have to say it suits you more than the green did."

"Eh, you know I did the green just to irritate Mum." She shrugged. "Speaking of which, I hear she's the reason I've got a new assignment?"

"Sort of. It was more Albus' idea than hers."

"So... Do I get details?"

Remus glanced around the pub. Though not yet busy, he knew it was only a matter of time before the lunch crowd took over. "Yes, but not here."

"Straight to the site, then?"

"Certainly."

Tonks shuddered. "I hate Side-Along."

"So does everyone else. I'd have you floo, but it's not connected to the network." Remus apparated them to Wisteria Walk, after settling his tab with Tom. Tonks looked around. "Muggles, Remus?"

"Come on, Tonks. I know you were told you'd be briefed when you got here." Remus took the auror's elbow and guided her to the Kellerman house, noticing that Tonks took everything in, noticing things like the neighbors, the angle of the garage to the house, the number of houses with flowerbeds. Standard auror paranoia was the main reason he hadn't apparated them directly inside the house.

Once ensconced in the kitchen, Remus served some more tea. Tonks laughed. "You're as bad as Dumbledore about the tea, Remus. I swear, the two of you need some sort of twelve-step program or something!"

Remus shook his head, "A what?"

Tonks sighed. "Never mind. Muggle joke." Tonks added a healthy portion of sugar to her tea, "So... Are you going to clue me in or do I have to guess?"

"Same old Tonks. Subtle as an AK." Remus muttered, earning himself a glare from the witch before explaining what her duties would consist of. "And I was thinking about some light wards on the place... Nothing too grandiose, mind, we want to repel people, not attract them."

Tonks thought for a moment. "I can do that."

Just then, the kitchen door opened to reveal Jennifer. "Oh, hello." She sent a puzzled expression to Remus.

"Jennifer Kellerman, this is Auror Tonks. She's been assigned in a dual capacity to Harry. She's going to be aiding in the investigation against the Dursleys and providing some light security when needed."

"That's good. What's an auror?"

Tonks smiled, "Wizarding law enforcement."

Remus poured Jenn a cup of tea and the three sat and chatted for a bit.

* * *

With Allen's assistance, Harry soon had the licence plates attached to his truck. "You sure you don't need me for the rest of the day?"

Allen shook his head. "No. It's been rather slow, and I trust you've gotten most of what you needed to do done." He laughed a bit. "And this way, I know you won't be asking for time off when we _do_ get busy!"

"True. I did need to pick up a few last things for my room, so I'd best go. See you later, Allen."

"Take care, Harry. Oh, let Jennifer know that Mike and Bea will be by tomorrow for dinner. I don't know if they'll be bringing Ashley or not, though."

"Will do, see you later." Harry climbed into the truck and started it up. Despite its still ragged appearance, thanks to the work that Harry had done on it - under the supervision of the guys, of course - it was running beautifully. Harry mentally noted that he needed to get a radio installed soon. A short drive later, Harry parked outside one of the American department stores that were becoming more and more common. After an hour of browsing, he located the last of the items he needed for his room. Specifically, a chest of drawers and several stacking modular units in which to store his art supplies. He paused in the electronics department, looking at the computers on display. One of the associates that worked in that department saw him and honed in like a heat-seeking missile.

"What can I help you with today?"

Harry shrugged and motioned towards the computers. "I was just wondering if I needed one..."

The sales associate quirked an eyebrow. "Well... Why do you think you might need one?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm going into my last year of school. I plan on going on to college, but I know most universities have public computers."

The salesman started laughing. "They do at that, but between the number of people that want to use them, the number of times they break down, and the general obsolete-ness of public computers, you'd be hard-pressed to get enough time on one to do your work."

Harry shook his head. "Is that true, or are you just trying to get me to buy one?"

The man laughed. "I'm not joking. I'm in my last year at uni, and I didn't take the chance to get a computer of my own until after my first year was over with. That first year was a nightmare."

Harry turned back to the computers, "Hmm."

"Look, I realize you're probably not the type to sit around playing video games all day, so you don't really need something state-of-the-art. If you're using it solely for homework, you won't need something all that flashy. Here, look." He indicated one of the lowest-priced models. "The good thing about this one, is that it's a notebook, meaning it's not as hard to take with you as a traditional computer. Other than the obvious, it's got programs for word processing, spreadsheets, drawing, and online browsing. It also comes with reference materials, like a thesaurus."

"Just a moment. Drawing?" Though Harry had computer experience, he hadn't realized he could use them for art.

"It's a simple program, used to make illustrations for insertion into a document. You can buy more advanced programs, though."

Harry exited the store with a decent notebook computer and a mid-level digital art program.

A couple of hours later, Harry had assembled the last of the furniture pieces and moved his art supplies from the closet to their places in the modular unit. He was painting in some details on his mural when his cellular phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hi. This is Hermione."

"Hey. What can I do for you?"

Hermione laughed a little, "I was just a little bored and thought I'd give you a call."

"Thanks for thinking of me. I'm sure your friends probably would think you odd to be calling someone you just met and all..."

"Not really. I don't have friends outside school. Unfortunately, most of them don't have a phone, and my parents don't have a fireplace, so it can get a little boring during the holidays."

Harry rinsed out the brush he had been using. "That's too bad." He tucked the brush back into its storage cup. "What are you doing tonight? I know my guardians won't mind if you stopped by for a bit."

"I'm not sure. Can you hang on a minute while I ask?"

Harry nodded, "Sure."

There was a click and faintly Harry could hear Hermione call out for her mum. The rest of their conversation was too faint to hear. He heard some footsteps and a man's voice said, "Hello?"

"Dr. Granger?"

"Yes. This is Harry from the office this afternoon, right?"

"Yes."

"Can I talk to your guardian? Her name is Jennifer, right?"

"Sure, and yes. Just a minute." Harry ran down to the kitchen where Jenn was fixing dinner. Remus hadn't been home when Harry got back, and Jennifer had informed him he was out showing the neighborhood to a wizard police officer that was going to help in the investigation of the Dursleys. "Jenn? Can you talk to Dr. Granger? I wanted to invite Hermione over for dinner..."

"She was that pretty girl from the dentist, right?" Harry nodded and handed her the phone. "Hello, this is Jennifer Kellerman... That's right. Mmhmm... Not a problem... Little Whinging... Of course... Spaghetti... Quite right... I know... Shocking, isn't it? Sure... Will do... Yes, it is a small world... All right, then... Okay." She handed the phone back to Harry, who had realized that there was nothing so maddening as hearing only half a conversation.

"Hello?" The phone was silent for a moment before Hermione's voice broke the silence.

"Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry wandered out to sit on the stairs.

"Mum and Dad said I could come over, but I have to be back by ten. Dad said you live in Little Whinging?"

"That's right. Wisteria Walk."

"Okay. I can be over in a few minutes. What's the house number?"

Harry gave her the address. "Where do you live?"

"The other side of London. Don't worry about it. I can apparate."

"Nifty."

"I'll bring a couple of those books I told you about, if that's okay with you?"

"Sure. See you soon, then?"

"Definitely."

Just as Harry clicked the phone off, the front door opened to reveal Remus and a young witch with bright pink hair. "Good evening, Harry."

"Hey Remus." Harry stood up. "Who's this?"

The pink-haired witch grinned. "Wotcher. I'm Tonks. You've met my mum. I'm going to be around a bit, helping out with the Dursley investigation."

"Good to meet you," Harry shook her hand. "How will you be helping?"

Tonks' grin grew wider, "Just a couple of mild compulsion charms on people in the neighborhood. Make it easier for the muggle police to get the information they'll need."

"Jennifer told me you were a wizarding police officer - "

"Auror."

"Sorry, auror. Isn't what your doing... a bit immoral?"

Remus excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen. Tonks shrugged, "You could look at it that way, I suppose, but if what I've heard about your relatives is correct, then I don't think it really is all that immoral in this case. I'm just going to be 'encouraging' people to be completely honest with the real investigation. It's not like I'm going to be messing about with their memories or forcing them to do something they don't want to."

"Oh."

Tonks started for the parlor. "Come on, let's talk."

Harry followed and took a seat on the sofa. Tonks sprawled across one of the armchairs. "I'm also under orders to provide you with a bit more security."

"Orders? From whom?" Harry asked.

"Albus Dumbledore."

Harry sighed. He was starting to get sick of hearing that man's name. "I thought he was just the headmaster at Hogwarts."

Tonks nodded, "He is that, but he's also involved in our government. He's... Kind of hard to describe. I don't know the whole story, but he claims to have a vested interest in you and your safety. I imagine you'd need to talk to him to get all the details."

"Do you think I'll ever meet him?"

"Probably. I'm a little surprised he hasn't come by here yet, but then again... School will be starting up in less than a month, and I know he still needs to find a teacher for one of the posts, so he's probably a touch busy." Tonks shrugged. "In any case, I mentioned I was assigned to provide some security. One of the things I'm going to be doing is setting up a confusion ward over the house here. What this will do is make it so that wizards won't realize you live here. All they'll be able to find out is that a wizard lives here, and Remus' presence will more than explain that; he's known for living in muggle areas."

"Oh. What else?"

"Until the investigation is over with, I'll be in the neighborhood. If further wards are needed, I'll either set them then or contact someone to set them for us."

"In the neighborhood?"

"Yeah. There's a house for sale down the block. I'll be staying there until I'm no longer needed. This is a rather open-ended assignment and the Ministry is responsible for proper housing while I'm on duty."

Harry smiled, "With luck, you won't have to be here all that long. No offence meant, of course."

Tonks made a dismissing gesture with her hands, nearly knocking over a lamp. "Don't worry about it. It's the kind of assignment most aurors fight over. It's low-risk, practically a vacation. Also, while here, I can help you with your training."

Harry nodded, "Thanks. I'm beginning to get a bit irritated at my aunt for keeping me from Hogwarts."

Tonks shrugged, "Don't think overmuch on it. Who knows how things would have been if you'd went? You might not have met the Kellermans and would still be staying with the Dursleys."

Shuddering melodramatically, Harry joked, "The horror!"

Just then the doorbell rang. A couple of minutes later, Jennifer appeared in the doorway to the parlor. "Ah, he is here. Dinner should be ready shortly."

"Thanks, Mrs. Kellerman." Hermione stepped into view.

"Oh, call me Jenn, dear." Jennifer said before returning to the kitchen.

"Hey Harry."

"Hi Hermione."

"I brought those books I told you about..."

Harry smiled and motioned for her to come in, "Have a seat, Hermione. This is Tonks; she's an auror."

Hermione greeted the woman with the pink hair. "Hermione Granger. You wouldn't happen to be Auror Tonks the metamorphmagus, would you?"

Tonks laughed. "Of course. You're a Hogwarts student, right?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes, I'll be going into seventh year."

"Wait a tick... Granger. Ah, yes. You know Dumbledore's made mention of you on occasion? He said you were the best researcher he'd had the pleasure of seeing through school since the forties."

Hermione beamed. "Did he really?"

"Yes, he did, and he doesn't praise lightly."

"I would imagine not."

Tonks looked back to Harry, "I should get going. I'm not getting paid to hang about doing nothing until _after_ the wards are set." She laughed her way out of the room.

"What's a meta-whatever?"

Hermione sat in the chair Tonks had vacated, "She can change her appearance at will. Things like eye color, hair color and length, general body type."

"Cool."

"It's probably why she's such a good auror."

Harry and Hermione chatted until Remus showed up to announce dinner was ready. "Professor Lupin?" Hermione smiled at the werewolf. "What are you doing here?"

Remus nodded at Hermione. "Miss Granger. I could ask you the same question."

"Harry showed up at my parents' practice today. You?"

"Albus asked that I bring him up to speed on magic."

Hermione's eyes suddenly held a dangerous glint, "You don't say. Need any help?"

Remus laughed, recognizing Hermione's research-mode. "I'd be daft to turn down help."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, "Hey! Are you saying I need help?"

Hermione smirked, "Well, you _did_ admit to being an artist..."

Harry sighed, "Fine. I'm crazy. But, do remember that though I may be a bit insane, I'm not stupid. Let's leave learning for _after_ dinner. Lunch was a long time ago..." Harry maneuvered past Remus and Hermione and headed for the dining room.

Hermione shook her head and sighed, "Boys."

Allen showed up just as everyone was sitting down to dinner. He was introduced to Hermione and everyone dug into spaghetti and salad. The majority of Hermione's conversation centered on Harry's limited training thus far. "You took him through a magical meditation?"

Remus nodded, "Found his center on the first try."

"Really?" she turned to Harry. "It took me three tries before I found mine. It looked like a lake with all these rivers and streams flowing in and out of it. What did yours look like?"

Harry thought for a moment about how to describe it. "Glowing ropes all tangled together, or neon tubing. There were all these colors, and though they knotted together in multiple locations, the biggest knot was in my chest."

Hermione looked thoughtful, "You said they tangled together in more than one location?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. There were... seven knots, all told." A thought suddenly occurred to Harry, but before he could voice it, Hermione continued on.

"Makes sense. In arithmancy, seven is a greater power-number. As are three, thirteen, and five. The lesser power-numbers include two, four, and nine."

Taking Hermione's pause for breath as an opportunity, Harry cut back in, "I just thought I was seeing the chalkra centers... I remember reading about Hindu beliefs a few years ago. A lot of what they believe makes sense when you think about it."

"Quite right, Harry. The Hindu people only recently started separating magical folk from the muggles. Come to think of it, that started when Britain was occupying India, back during the days of the Empire." Remus said as he speared a meatball on his fork.

Allen and Jenn were having fun trying to follow the magical discussion at the other end of the table. Jenn leaned close to Allen and whispered, "Between those two and Harry, himself, he'll probably end up coming up with a better mousetrap."

"Huh?"

Jenn laughed quietly. "Look at them, honey. Remus is obviously an intelligent man, and Hermione is obviously passionate about learning. Harry, you know. What do you think is going to happen when you combine intelligence with creativity?"

Allen shrugged. He knew his wife was probably right, but she always had been better at seeing possibilities than he. He turned his attention back to the trio at the end of the table.

"... interfere with electricity. So, that's why you see candles and torches in the wizarding world, rather than light bulbs." Hermione was apparently explaining magic and electricity.

"But why does it interfere? It seems to me that magic is energy. Electricity is energy. There shouldn't be an issue." Harry was trying to understand the problem.

Remus sighed, "We don't know why, Harry. It just does. And most wizards are rather traditional in their beliefs. They don't need electricity, so why would they bother researching it?"

"But electricity allows for so many useful things... Not the least of which is heatless light. There's also refrigeration, television, phones, computers, radio... I know Hermione probably knows about the internet, but did you know that computers are used to communicate over distance, store information, and process almost everything?"

Remus chuckled, "I knew they were becoming more popular, but I don't see what's so wonderful about them. Most of what you're describing, we can use charms or spells for."

Hermione had been nodding along with Harry, "Professor Lupin, I don't think Harry's explained it all that well. Imagine the entire contents of every library you've ever spent countless hours researching a topic in. The hours upon hours thumbing through handwritten journals and spellbooks looking for information on your topic. Now imagine, if you will, a single book containing the exact contents of those libraries. The internet is like that. There are millions of computers linked together, each of them storing information that can be accessed from any of the others at any time. Granted, it's a bit more complex than that, but you get the idea."

Remus shook his head. "I highly doubt that, Hermione. Not to insult you at all, but computers can't store that much information, and I doubt there are that many computers existing in the world. I know Allen has a word processor at his work, but..."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, "When was the last time you did any research on computers?"

Remus thought. "I think it was back in 1982."

Hermione, Harry, and the Kellermans burst out laughing. "Remus. That was almost twenty years ago!" Harry managed to get out. "You don't think advancements have been made since then?"

Remus chuckled. "I guess that was a bit presumptuous of me, wasn't it?"

"Just a bit." Hermione said.

"You done with your dinner?" Harry asked looking from Remus to Hermione.

Hermione nodded and Remus replied, "Yes."

"Come on. I know Allen and Jenn have an ISP for the computer in the den."

Allen stood as well. "I've got a spare cable modem, Harry, and some cord. Jenn said you bought a clamshell today. We may as well get it hooked up in your room. I know there's a jack in there..."

"Yes, there is. It's next to the outlet I'm using for my desk."

"Go ahead and head on up. I'll bring up the modem and cable. Won't be but a minute."

Harry lead the way to his room. Hermione thought it a bit on the odd side, but it seemed to suit her new friend rather well. She was looking at his mural when Remus joined her. "It's looking even better, Harry."

Harry shrugged, "I was working on it earlier." The mural now boasted a couple of brightly hued birds and vibrant butterflies.

Hermione blinked. "_You_ did this?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I always wanted to do a mural... and Allen and Jenn said I could."

"It's beautiful."

Allen showed then, modem and cable in hand. "Let's get it hooked up, shall we?"

A few minutes later the modem and computer were connected and Allen was on the phone to his service provider to add the second modem to his package. He hung up the phone. "Okay Harry, when you log into the computer, you'll need to use my password." He leaned down and whispered it in Harry's ear. Harry nodded.

The remainder of the evening was spent showing Remus the advancements in computer technology since the early eighties. It took Hermione and Harry the better part of an hour to get Remus to go to a different page after he stumbled across an internet version of Pong. He mentioned playing it with Harry's mum when he visited her during the summer following their fifth year.

* * *

**A/N2:** And another chappie is ready. This would have been up earlier, but the computer I've been using is my friend's and she was moving to a new apartment over the last three days. I hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it.

Now, for a question. Do you all want to see Harry get into a relationship with Hermione? With Tonks? With someone else entirely? I'm open to suggestions here. I do know, though, that I don't want to pair him with a muggle. Let me know where you want the tale to go!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

**A/N: **Fantastic. That is how I feel right now. I love that everyone is reviewing. This tale has also been added to _ten_ C2's. I feel really honored. Thanks to everyone! You all rock!

* * *

**Chapter Five: Back to Work**

Wednesday dawned bright and sunny. As Harry's bedroom window faced east, he awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the ivy-chain curtain, casting dappled shadows over his mural, making it appear even more lifelike. Harry squinted at his alarm clock and saw that he still had over an hour before he was supposed to get up. He sighed, wondering if he should see about making a thicker curtain for the window. He discarded the notion after settling his glasses into place and seeing the effect the early morning light had on his painting.

Harry grabbed his fluffy new bathrobe and ducked into the bathroom. A scalding shower soon had him fully awake. He nodded to a yawning Remus in the hall before returning to his own room. He dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, removed his coverall from his battered backpack, and tugged on his ragged trainers. _Hmm... Yet another thing to remember to pick up. Should probably get a pair of dress-shoes, too. I don't think trainers are appropriate to wear with that suit Jennifer insisted I get._

After breakfast, Remus rode with Harry to the shop. Remus took the opportunity to discuss basic magical theory with the fledgling wizard.

"Okay, I understand that the intent is what's powering the spell, and that the word or words used are primarily a mnemonic device, but is it possible to make yourself cast one spell while saying the words to some other spell? It sounds like something that would be useful in dueling..."

Remus nodded, "You would think so, wouldn't you? Part of what you've described is possible; it's merely silent casting. In silent casting, you're not saying the words out loud. However, it's impossible to say the words for another spell while casting a different spell. For example, if I wanted to cast '_lumos_,' but was trying to say '_protego_' instead, not only would _I_ be properly confused, but the magic wouldn't know what effect I wanted to manifest. The best that I could hope for would be a merging of the two spells, or perhaps a non-reaction. The worst would be an uncontrollable magical explosion."

Harry thought for a few minutes, making his way through the early morning traffic. While stopped at a red light, he glanced at Remus, "I suppose I can understand. You've preconditioned yourself into a particular set of automatic reactions when casting. However, would it be possible to cast silently, which you've said _is_ possible, while saying something that isn't a spell? For instance, if I wanted to do a silent '_lumos_' and said something like... 'wingnut' instead? It would likewise confuse whatever opponent I was dueling."

_The kid has a point... I haven't seen dueling like that, though. I wonder if Filius is familiar with styles like that? I know Severus is fond of silent casting while dueling, but he tends to verbally lash out at his opponent rather than try to confuse them..._ "You have a point, Harry. However, I don't know of anyone that uses that particular strategy. I'll probably write to a couple of my associates to see if they know more, if that's all right with you?" Harry nodded and made a left turn into the shop's parking lot. "However, it appears as though we've arrived. Shall we shelve the discussion for later?"

"Certainly."

As there was little to do in the shop - Nigel had the only customer that morning, and he had it well in hand - Remus and Harry had all the paperwork from the last few days caught up in record time. After that was done, Remus and helped Allen do a minor inventory. And Tim and Harry were both working on getting the last few kinks in Viridian's electrical system ironed out.

"So... How are things going with your new studies?" Tim asked as he re-wired the fuse-box.

Harry looked up from where he was running wire to the door-switch that controlled the dome light, "Not too shabbily, if I do say so myself."

"What can you do?"

Harry shrugged, "Not too much, yet. Light, a sticking charm, and a sewing charm. Remus is making sure I understand the theory before getting into too much practical stuff. I did run into a witch my age, though. Her parents run a dentists' office."

Tim smiled, "Pretty?"

Harry snorted, "Why do you want to know?"

Tim shook his head, "Harry, Harry, Harry. You need to get out more. I know you, little brother. You don't date, you don't hang out with other guys. You isolate yourself off with your paints and ignore the rest of the world."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "And how, exactly, was I supposed to date while living with the Dursleys?"

Tim laughed, "But you're not there any longer, are you? That's what I was talking about, Harry. You can and _should_ date now. You don't want to be a virgin forever, do you?"

Harry blushed and sputtered, unable to come up with a suitable comeback.

"Good to see you understand. Now, back to the girl. Is she pretty?"

Harry shrugged, "I suppose. Her name's Hermione. She came over last night and helped me show Remus the advancements in computers since the last time he dealt with one."

"But I thought he was shown the one in the office?"

"He thought it was a word-processor. And, you have to admit, a twelve-year-old computer isn't precisely the best example of modern technology."

"True. So, how long had it been since he worked with the damn things?"

"He claimed 1982, although I'm sure it has to have been longer than that. We showed him the internet and within half an hour, he located Pong."

Tim laughed hard enough to see stars. "_Pong_? You have got to be kidding me."

"Am not. It's true. He spent the better part of an hour playing with it."

Nigel's snort from the next bay over distracted both of them. "You know, guys, you should _really_ be talking about something else. I only caught bits and pieces of what you just said. Namely 'Remus,' 'internet,' and 'He spent the better part of an hour playing with it.'"

"Just because _your_ mind is perpetually in the gutter, doesn't mean everyone else shares your obsession," Harry retorted.

"Touché." Nigel went back to work on the car.

Everyone broke for lunch at one. Halfway through the hour break, Harry's cellphone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey. I just wanted to thank you for inviting me over last night. I had fun."

"Oh, hey Hermione. You're welcome any time."

"I was wondering if you'd be attending Hogwarts this fall?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't know. Probably not. I have to catch up on six years' worth of magical learning, and school starts in less than a month... I don't think I'll have time. Remus is making sure I know all the theory first, anyway. And I still want to go to uni after I'm done with school."

"Oh? Do you know what you want to study? I was thinking about going into law... Not as an auror, of course, but more into the political side of things. The Ministry, maybe."

"Sounds interesting. I don't much care for politics, though. My art instructor at Stonewall seems to think I could get scholarships in art, but I don't know if I want to study it. I mean, I like art, and I'm good at it, but I can't see it as more than a hobby. Especially now that I don't have to rely on it to go to uni."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, before Remus showed up last week, I was on my own as far as money was concerned. I've saved a couple thousand pounds and was planning on using that and any scholarships I could get to go to uni. Now, though, since Remus turned up, I find that my parents left me a lot of money when they died, so I don't have to continue in art, unless I really want to."

"Makes sense. You really didn't know about your inheritance, though?"

"Nope. Why? Don't tell me you knew!"

"A little. If you research your family, it becomes apparent that the Potter name is one of the older wizarding lines in Britain. They've also been rather respected, and their estate still donates hundreds of galleons a year to Saint Mungo's and Hogwarts, as well as numerous smaller institutions."

Harry laughed, "Should I be frightened that you know more about me than I do?"

"Nonsense. It's all a matter of public record."

"But you still had to have researched it."

"True, but it was just curiosity."

Harry snickered, "But you know what curiosity did to the cat."

Hermione giggled, too. "Yeah, but satisfaction brought him back!"

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall of the office, "Sorry to cut this short, Hermione, but I have to get back to work. I'll call later, okay?"

"Sure. Talk to you later." The call ended.

Harry tucked the phone back into his pocket, only to realize Remus, Nigel, Tim, and Allen all staring at him. "What?"

The other four broke down laughing. Tim shook his head, "So she _is_ pretty, then."

Harry tossed his hands into the air, and said to no one in particular, "I can't win!"

The remainder of the day seemingly flew by to Harry. Before he knew it, it was time to go back home. Harry smiled a little at the thought. _Home. Don't think I've ever thought of the Dursleys' as such. It's good to know there's somewhere I'm actually wanted as something other than a servant._ Harry sighed. Life was definitely looking up.

Remus and Harry spent the hours after dinner going over what little practical magic Harry knew as well as further discussing magical theory. Just before bed, Remus handed Harry a list, obviously from the yellow legal pad that shadowed Jennifer everywhere. "Go through that catalog from Flourish and Blotts, they should have all these in stock. If you send Hedwig with the order tonight, you should receive the package in the next day or two. When you get the books, let me know, and we'll start in on more practical work."

Harry nodded and took the list to his room. It didn't take him long to locate all the books on Remus' list. Harry also added a couple of interesting titles from the catalog to the order, as well. After sending his owl on her way with the massive order, Harry snuggled beneath his blanket and was asleep in minutes.

* * *

While Harry was busy filling out the order form for his books and falling asleep, Remus was looking over the master-list of first year curriculum. Surprisingly, he and Harry had managed three of the charms listed, as well as the majority of the theory for all classes in the few short days since their meeting. He filled out his own order forms for supplies; when Hedwig returned, he'd send it out. Allen had promised that he and Harry would have all the same days off, and Friday was just the day after next. Remus scribbled down a to-do list. He wanted to get Harry through all twenty charms on the master-list that day. It was unlikely that it would be a problem. The charms he had shown Harry thus far the boy had picked up on after only one or two tries. If there was time, he also hoped to start in on transfigurations.

Once he had his list, he meandered to the den, where Allen was poking about on his computer. "Good evening, Allen."

"Remus. How goes it?"

"Not too bad. I just had a few questions about the upcoming school year. Do you know what subjects Harry will be taking? I need to figure out how much time per day we will be able to work on his magical studies."

Allen thought for a moment. "I know he plans on going on to uni, so he'll probably be taking the college-prep classes."

"And those would be?"

"Let's see if I can recall... It's been a while since my own school days, mind, but I did attend Stonewall as well... World History three - that covers the second world war to present day, unless it's been changed. Um... Calculus or Trigonometry, depending on which one he took last year. Advanced Living Skills, just because he enjoys it."

"Living Skills?"

"Yeah. Cooking, sewing, how to pay bills and the like. From what I've heard, Harry's only one of three boys in a class of twenty. Smart kid. I wish I'd have thought of that when I was a teen."

Remus laughed. "Somehow I think if Hogwarts had offered a class like that, Harry's dad would have done the same thing."

Allen grinned, "You might want to let him know. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. History, Living Skills, mathematics. Advanced English Literature and Composition. I know he took Chemistry last year, and Biology the year before, so I'm not sure what science class he'll be taking. I seem to recall that a Government class, as well as a class on Economics were both required. Oh! And he's taking Latin for his language requirement. He also mentioned signing up for Advanced Two-Dimensional Art and Intermediate Sculpture."

"Busy, isn't he?"

Allen nodded and chuckled. "Of course. I don't think he ever showed up for work during the school year without his homework in tow. I know he gets top marks, too, but you'd have to talk to him to find out exactly how much time he spends studying."

"Do you know if Stonewall offers an astronomy course in its sciences?"

Allen nodded. "Yeah, took it myself when I was a lad. I take it that's a subject that overlaps?"

Remus nodded. "That it does. If he can take or has taken the class already, I can cross that one off the list."

"There's a list?"

"Yes. The magical world is no less fond of standardized tests than the muggle. Fifth-years at Hogwarts take their OWL - Ordinary Wizarding Level - tests at the end of the year to determine what advanced subjects they can sign up for. At the end of seventh year are the NEWTs - Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. The results from both are used by potential employers to screen candidates; particularly for any sort of continued-training position, like the Auror Corps. In either case, I hope to be able to have Harry sit his OWLs over the Christmas hols, and, with luck, sit the NEWTs with his age-mates at Hogwarts this spring."

"Sounds rather like the system we have in place for non-magical folk. Do you know if it was your system that inspired ours or vice-versa?"

Remus shrugged, "Not too sure. It wasn't covered in my Muggle Studies class, nor in History of Magic."

"Meh. Isn't too important, just an idle curiosity." Allen set about turning off the computer. "Do you really think he'll be ready for those tests so soon?"

"I'm not sure, but with what I've seen so far, I'll be surprised if he isn't ready for at least his OWLs. He's shown a remarkable aptitude for magic."

"How so?"

"I've shown him a total of three charms; a light spell, a sewing spell, and a sticking charm, as well as the counters for each of them. Now, it's relatively normal to get the light spell on only one or two tries, but the other two, particularly the sewing spell, are notoriously hard to learn. There's also the fact that he managed to locate his magical core on the first try. That alone is almost unprecedented. Albus Dumbledore - largely hailed as the greatest wizard since Merlin - took two tries to find his. I think the last wizard to locate their magical core on the first try was a witch in the late 1600's." Remus sighed. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if he outstrips my skill in the next eight months or so."

"How's that?"

"Well, he can hardly learn anything from someone that's not on the same magical level as he is. If my suspicions are accurate, he'll end up having to resort to self-study before his eighteenth birthday. What's even more upsetting is that his magical core is still growing, and will until he's somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. Magic grows alongside the body; when one's done growing, so is the other."

"Astonishingly, that makes more sense than I would have suspected a week ago." Allen chuckled, "But then, a week ago, I would have suggested a long stay in a padded room had you suggested magic was real."

"It does take a bit of getting used to, doesn't it?"

* * *

The subsequent week had Remus in an advanced state of shock and Harry deliriously happy. Not only had they finished the master-list of charms, but the transfiguration list as well. Harry was also getting to know the auror, Tonks, that was helping with security in the area, and Hermione, as well.

The following Friday, Remus planned on starting Harry on Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. The morning was devoted to DADA, which Harry picked up more quickly than either charms or transfiguration. However, when Remus finished describing the basic theory behind potions, Harry developed a grin the likes of which Remus hadn't seen since the days of the Marauders.

"This looks fun. It's rather like a combination of chemistry and cooking, isn't it?"

Remus nodded, "The basic principles are similar, or so I understand. Unfortunately, I'm not much of a brewer, and I only have a passing knowledge of chemistry. I was also told once - by your mum, no less - that I should never set foot in a kitchen. I had managed to melt her tea kettle while trying to make tea. Ever since then, I conjure the tea I drink."

Harry laughed, "Sounds like mum was right to say what she did. If you'd melted a pot at Aunt Petunia's, she probably would have throttled you." Harry looked down to the beginner's potions text. "But, from what I see here about the warnings listed, this is a bit more volatile than just hashing together something for a casserole. It's a bit more like chemistry. Hmm... I wonder..."

"Dare I ask?"

"Well, it's just that in chemistry, there's a list of all the elements, sorted into familial groups, depending on how they interact with one another, their atomic weight, and so on. Is there something along those lines for potions? Also, from what you've told me about brewing, the order in which ingredients are added, how they've been prepared, what direction you stir, the type of cauldron used, the material of the stirring rod... All of it has a bearing on the final product." Harry picked up the textbook, "The book is all well and good, from what I've read, but it only gives specific potions to memorize and make. It does bugger-all to explain what's going on. How are new discoveries made? Is it all just happenstance and guess-work?"

Remus scrubbed a hand across his face. "I honestly don't know, Harry. Most people don't really care _what's _happening or _why_, so long as the final product does what they want it to."

"That's... Rather disappointing, I guess. I mean, in chemistry, the teacher was supportive of experimentation, as long as we worked it out on paper first. Mr. Barnes refused to let us to a practical in the lab until we had finished the proofs for it. Especially if we were working with anything that could possibly explode or cause bodily harm."

Remus sighed. He was already out of his depth and he knew it. "I can already tell that I won't be a suitable teacher for this subject, Harry. Let's go back to Defense for now, and I'll see what I can do about locating an appropriate tutor. The potions' master at Hogwarts, Snape, might know someone..."

Harry nodded and put the book away.

That night, Remus sat down with his list of requirements for all years, and sorted them into piles on the small correspondence desk in his room. He sat the lists for first year charms and transfigurations into a pile he mentally labeled 'done.' He also sat the astronomy list for all years in that pile as well. Harry had told Remus he'd taken the class as a third-year at Stonewall. A few nights earlier, Remus confirmed that Harry had not forgotten much, if anything, covered in the class and was more than ready to take the OWL for that subject.

He placed the potions lists into a pile he thought of as 'not my area,' and hesitated before splitting the lists for arithmancy between the 'not my area' pile and a pile of 'still needs done.' He was reasonably good with magical arithmetic, but decided to have the more advanced levels explained by someone who knew precisely what was going on. From Harry's questions about potions, Remus wouldn't be at all surprised if Severus Snape didn't decide to tutor him, himself. _If the ruddy prat would ever get over his hatred of James, that is. I really tried to show him that we were adults, and more than capable of working together, and he goes and proves me wrong. If he does tutor Harry... Merlin help me if he says or does a single thing to take his hatred out on James' son! _

Remus shook his head to dispel the thoughts and returned to sorting the lists. He'd realized that tutoring Harry was much different than teaching a class of students. For one thing, Harry seemed to be able to recall just about anything he'd read. Another difference were the questions Harry came up with. There had been a couple of times that he'd really had to _think_to pull up or reason out the answer. He placed Divination and History of Magic in the same pile, 'interesting, but useless.'

While Remus was revising his lesson plan, Harry was in his room, re-reading parts of the potions text. _It's almost like the author didn't want people to really understand what they were doing. I guess that's alright for a bunch of kids, but I'd rather know what I'm doing before I start doing it. I mean, in cooking, if I'm out of buttermilk, I know there are substitutions I can make to get the same final result. In chemistry, not knowing that two elements react a particular way can cause real problems, like mixing bleach and ammonia. Or hydrochloric acid and sugar._ Harry shut the book and sat it on his bookshelf with his other magic books. _What was that name Remus mentioned? Snap? Grape? No, Snape! That's it. Maybe he can recommend a better guide._

Harry sat at his desk and typed a letter to the Hogwarts' Potions' Master. _It would be so much easier to get a hold of him if they had email. Oh, well. When in Rome..._ Harry emailed it to himself and went down to the computer in the den to print it out.

* * *

"Good evening, Remus. I trust all is well?" Albus asked through the mirror.

Remus nodded, "Scarily so, Albus."

The headmaster quirked an eyebrow. "How's that?"

Remus shook his head, "Harry's absorbing the lessons almost faster than I can teach him. In fact, he's gone through all of the first-year charms and transfiguration lessons, and just today, he's made his way halfway through the Defense list."

"That is most fortuitous. It seems I should be a touch jealous, Remus. It's not every day that one gets the chance to teach so apt a pupil. And the other classes?"

Remus shrugged, "He already took a muggle astronomy course, so that's not something we have to deal with. I don't anticipate him being all that interested in divination or history. The only major issue I've ran into has to do with potions."

Albus sighed, "That's to be expected, Remus. One cannot be naturally skilled in all areas of magic."

Remus shook his head, "That's not it. We've not gone over more than theory at this point. The issue lies with me, sir. He keeps asking questions that I can't answer. I was wondering if you could contact Sna- Severus and see if he knows of someone better suited to teach Harry that aspect of magic."

Albus looked thoughtful, stroking his long white beard. "What sorts of questions is he asking?"

"He keeps wanting to know why things react the way they do, and if its just the ingredients of the potion, or whether the cauldron, et cetera has an affect as well. Though I passed the NEWT for potions, I never was that interested in it. I don't even know where to start looking for the answers to the questions he asks."

Dumbledore nodded, "Of course, my boy. I'll speak with Severus and see if he can recall anyone that would be appropriate for the position."

"Thank you, Albus."

"You're quite welcome. Now, to change the topic, Nymphadora has informed me that the investigation into the Dursleys is going well?"

Remus nodded, "Yes, it has. She's been a real asset. Since she's new to the area, it's not suspicious of her to ask about the families in the area. She's managed to gather testimony from about half the families in the neighborhood just by inviting the lady of the house over for tea. Albeit, the tea has a mild truth serum in it, and when her guests leave, they find themselves with a strong compulsion to contact the police. Andie has also been by a couple of times, going over the information they've come up with about Vernon Dursley. Once this is all said and done, it's quite likely that Vernon and Dudley both will end up in prison."

Dumbledore gave a grim nod. "It still pains me that I am responsible for Harry having had to live there."

Remus shot the headmaster a Look. "It's not me you should be telling that to."

* * *

For the first time in over ten years, Severus Snape found himself starting a day without an experimental potion in his laboratory. He'd finally finished tweaking the latest versions of both the post-Cruciatus potion and Wolfsbane just three nights ago, and was still waiting on the data from Saint Mungo's as to their effectiveness. Snape was just finishing his morning coffee when a snowy white owl began pecking at his kitchen window. Snape sighed and let the owl in, thinking, _Bloody Albus. Why not send the ruddy phoenix next time? Or how about a parrot? No subtlety whatsoever..._

He took the envelope from the owl, noting in passing that it wasn't the normal heavy parchment, but a blindingly white muggle envelope. On the front of it was printed 'Professor Snape, Potions Master.' "Who on earth would send me a muggle letter by owl post?"

Using a table knife, he slit open the envelope and read the letter contained therein.

_13 August, 1997  
Dear Professor Snape:_

_I was informed that you are a potions' professor at Hogwarts. I am currently being home-schooled in magic, and my tutor was unable to sufficiently answer some questions I had regarding brewing. Likewise, the book I have (Magical Drafts and Potions, by Arsenius Jigger) doesn't go into any detail on circumstantial reactions of the different aspects of brewing potions. What I have learned thus far only reinforces my desire to know what I'm doing before attempting it in reality. It seems to me that every aspect of a potion-brewing session has some affect on the outcome of the potion. For example, in one of the 'beginner' level potions I've read the instructions for, it states to add porcupine quills after removing the potion from the fire, otherwise an explosion will occur. It doesn't state why. It also doesn't explain why the ingredients need to be prepared as listed._

_I am highly familiar with both cooking and muggle chemistry, and in both of those areas - which are superficially similar to potions - it is necessary to know what your final product will be, as well as any potentially nasty side-effects; be they a burned pie from a too-hot oven, or poisonous gasses from mixing the wrong chemicals. I can't see how the same thing doesn't apply to potions. Some of the potential disasters detailed in the text I have sound particularly gruesome._

_I was curious if you would be able to recommend a more comprehensive guide to the potions-making process. One which details the reactions expected from the ingredients used. If you are familiar with chemistry at all, then what I'm searching for would be similar to the Periodic Table of Elements, or perhaps a Cliffs' Notes study guide._

_I find it difficult to believe that potions advancements can be made with the singularly uninformative information I have available. Any advice you would have for a neophyte in your field would be most appreciated. You may send your response, if you have one, back with my owl. Her name is Hedwig._

_Thank you for your time and consideration._

_Sincerely,  
Harry J. Potter_

While reading the letter, Snape's reactions progressed through a full spectrum. Surprise that he'd received such a request, respect that a newbie to the art was able to spot the reason why he continued to use Jigger's text for the lower classes, disbelief that his art could be in any way related to something muggle, and shock at the signature. Shock melted into sneering disdain. It was impossible that anyone named 'Potter' could possibly hold an interest in potions as anything other than the possibility for a prank. Particularly _that_ Potter. _What the bloody hell does the spoilt little hero want with this information? Surely the werewolf can adequately address the... child's needs. _Crumpling the letter into a ball and tossing it into the cold fireplace, Snape retired to his sitting room, intent on getting caught up with his reading.

Hedwig followed him.

"Blasted bird! Go away! There is no reply! Begone!"

Hedwig hooted irritably and flew back out the window.

* * *

"It's open!" Harry called from where he lay on his bed, reading. He was a little upset at first that his letter was met with no response, but chalked it up to the fact that the new term was only two weeks away, and the professor was likely too busy getting ready. If he hadn't received a response by the end of the month, he would try again.

Remus entered Harry's room, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Have a minute?"

Harry closed his book and sat up. "Sure. Whacha need?"

Remus took a seat in the desk chair. "I'm going to be out of town for a couple of nights."

"Oh? Why?"

Remus flushed a bit. "For your safety."

"Huh?" Harry stood up and returned his book to its place on the shelf. "What do you mean?"

Remus had been dreading this conversation. "It's just that... I have this... Health concern."

Concerned, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. "Is it serious?"

Remus shrugged, "It can be."

Half-formed ideas of terminal illnesses flitted through Harry's brain. "You'll be alright, though, won't you?"

Remus nodded, "It's not new. I've had this... problem most of my life."

Harry chewed on his lip. "What's it called?"

Remus took a deep breath. "Lycanthropy." _And now I'll see if Harry is as understanding as the Kellermans..._

"Lycan... Oh, bloody hell, Remus! You could have just _said_ you were a ruddy werewolf!" Harry smiled and shook his head. "It's not like I wouldn't know what the word meant. Muggles _do_ have werewolf stories, you know."

* * *

**A/N2:** I'm rather surprised at the respose I've received. Most people seem to want only friendship between Harry and Hermione. Right now, I'm going to ignore romantic entanglements. In a few chappies, Harry will realise what that prophecy Remus mentioned _really_ entails.

Other than that, what did everyone think of Snape? I promise that won't be the last of him, either.

Remember to review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

**A/N: **Having keyboard issues, so this took longer than expected. Sorry about the delay.

One of my reviewers said that I had the school system all wrong. I apologize, but I wrote what I knew, which is the American schooling style. None of the info I could find was at all helpful - maybe I was looking in the wrong places, eh? I meant no disrespect. Right now, I don't have access to my computer and am using a friend's. When I'm back on mine, I'll re-do the chapter so that it's more accurate.

I'm in shock. I managed to get more than 100 reviews. Does a little happy-dance. You all rock!

* * *

**Chapter Six: Problems?**

The remaining two weeks of the summer passed in a whirlwind of activity for Harry. Remus managed to get him through the DADA curriculum for first through fourth years, charms was covered through third year, and transfiguration was covered through half of the second year list. Remus was of two minds concerning Harry's progress. On one had, he was astonished at Harry's progress; on the other, he was somewhat upset that he'd had to avoid so may subjects. He had yet to hear back from Dumbledore about a suitable tutor for Harry's potions-related studies.

For Harry's part, he couldn't recall ever being so happy before. Not only was he away from the Dursleys for the first time in his memory, but he also had a home where he was allowed to be himself, good friends that were honestly interested in him, and a living link with his parents. He was also making friends with someone his own age. Hermione had visited twice in the two weeks before school resumed. It was really due to her that Harry was learning his magic so quickly. She had shown him a simple concentration-enhancing charm that cut his study-time in half. She did let him know that it was the only memory-related charm allowed for use by students, because it simply made it easier to ignore outside distractions while studying. It did nothing to enhance the memory of the person using it.

The night before school began, Harry put the finishing touches on his mural. He grinned. It had to have been one of his best works, ever. He was just putting his brushes and paints away when someone knocked on his door. "Come in."

"Evening, Harry." Allen sat on the desk chair.

Harry smiled in greeting, "Whacha need, Allen?"

"Just making sure you're all set for school tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Good... good." Allen ran a hand through his hair.

"Why do I get the impression that there was something else you wanted to talk about?"

Allen chuckled. "Am I that obvious?"

"Not really. I just know you too well."

"That you do. Anyway, Tonks dropped by."

"Oh What did she have to say"

"She feels she's collected enough evidence against the Dursleys. Unless you have any objections, she will be turning the information over to the police soon."

Harry wasn't quite sure how to feel. On the one hand, he felt that the Dursleys deserved whatever punishments the law allowed, on the other, however, he was beginning to feel a bit guilty about breaking up their family. Allen seemed to pick up on Harry's internal conflict. "Harry? You do still want to do this, right?"

Harry bit his lip. "I don't know, Allen. I _do_ want to be rid of them..."

"But?"

"But... I don't know... Even though we don't like each other, they _are_ my family... Aside from you and the guys and Jennifer, they're the only family I can remember."

Allen sighed. "It's okay to feel that way, Harry, but don't let your misplaced sympathies get the better of your judgment. From what you've told me about your life with them..." he took a deep breath. "What they did to you amounted to neglect at best and outright abuse at worst."

"But-"

"No 'buts,' Harry. What they did was wrong. I highly doubt you would have stood for it, had it happened to anyone else. Why, then, are you allowing it to yourself?"

Harry sighed. "I guess I can see what you mean. I just wish there was a better way."

"You and me both, kiddo. You and me both."

* * *

When classes started, Harry suddenly felt as though there were nowhere near enough hours in the day. He woke up at seven every morning, showered, shaved, and dressed for the day. Over breakfast, he reviewed his homework. He had to leave by eight, in order to be to school by nine. From nine to three-thirty he was in class. From four-thirty to eight, he worked at the shop. At eight, Allen, Remus, and Harry returned home and had supper. Harry was then able to work on his homework until eleven. From eleven to midnight, Remus tutored him on something magical; they had just started going through modern wizarding history, and Harry found the topic fascinating. At midnight, Harry fell into an exhausted slumber, just to start the whole thing over the next day.

Harry didn't mind his busy schedule. The Dursleys had kept him running ragged the entire time he lived with them. At least now it was all things he either enjoyed or recognized as necessary to his _own _future. Though he was more tired than he could ever remember being before, for the first time, he was truly content. However, all good things must come to an end.

It was nearing one in the morning of Thursday, September 18. Harry was still awake. He had a major paper due the next afternoon for his muggle history unit on World War Two. Yawning, he hit 'print.' Unfortunately, he overslept the next morning and was unable to review his homework. At the beginning of history, he turned in his paper. He dutifully took notes and progressed to his next class when the bell rang.

During lunch, however, Harry was pulled aside by Mr. Jonas, his history instructor. He was a short, balding man with large brown eyes, which only looked larger through his thick glasses. "Mr. Potter, a moment of your time, if you will."

"Is there something wrong, sir?" Harry asked while his teacher led him by the elbow to an out-of-the way alcove.

"There may be," Mr. Jonas answered. He let go of Harry's arm and removed a sheaf of papers from his shirt pocket and unrolled them. "I was just wondering what possessed you to write this? Your work, though not the best I've ever dealt with, is... Rather more accurate than this."

Confused, Harry took the papers from his teacher. He recognized his history paper, _An Evaluation of the Events of WWII_. "What do you mean? I mean... I'll admit I _was_ a bit tired when I wrote it - I've been working a lot lately - but..."

"I see." Mr. Jonas shook his head. "Did you read it over?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't have time."

His teacher smiled. "Why don't you do so now?" Harry shrugged, deciding to humor the man, and scanned through his paper. "As you can see, you did rather well through the first four pages. However, once you get to the last third or so of the paper, you begin mentioning things that, to my knowledge, don't exist. People as well."

Harry skipped ahead and felt his stomach drop into the vicinity of his new trainers. _Due to the actio_n_s of Gridelwald, the British Ministry felt it _b_est to i_n_terfere..._ With growing horror and mortification, he read onward. _The war was bound to come to an end once Albus Dumbledore defeated Gridelwald in a duel... It is interesting to note that, despite its many ethical applications as well as his own use of the curse in ending the reign of the last Dark Lord, Dumbledore later campaigned to have the killing curse branded an Unforgivable..._ Harry finished reading what he had written in an exhausted haze the night before. A blush reddened his face and somehow he managed to stutter, "I... I'm s-sorry, sir. I guess I was more tired than I thought. I'd like to re-do the assignment, if you'll let me."

Mr. Jonas shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I can't allow that. However, I can understand how a busy schedule could have lead to this. The paper up to those last few paragraphs was up to your usual standard. Just this once, I'll allow you to take the grade on the first part."

Harry nodded, "Thank you, sir. I believe I'll see about cutting down my schedule some. It's obvious I need a bit more sleep than I've been getting."

Mr. Jonas smiled. "See that you do. Just between you and me, though, I quite enjoyed the break from the monotony, but do try not to let this happen again, eh?"

Harry chuckled. "Of course not."

After Harry left school that afternoon and had the chance to talk to Remus, it took the werewolf a full half-hour to calm his howling laughter. Allen, though, didn't think the situation was quite so humorous. He sighed as he realized that he would be needing to keep Remus around the shop a bit longer. Harry was about to have his hours cut to half, weather he liked it or not.

With the decrease in the number of hours he worked at the shop, there were no further incidents. Harry managed to get all his work done, for the most part correctly, before his nightly sessions with Remus.

During one of Harry's rare moments of solitude where he had no further work to do, he realized he'd never received a response from the Hogwarts Potions' Master. It had also been a full month since he'd spoken with Hermione. He shrugged and set about drafting a couple of much-needed letters.

* * *

_September 30, 1997  
Dear Hermione,_

_I hope your month has gone well. I've been really busy lately. I actually was tired enough to accidentally write a few paragraphs about Gridelwald in my paper on WWII a couple of weeks ago. Don't worry, though. The teacher just thought it was completely due to my shortage of sleep and that I'd conjured the tale from whole cloth. This led to me cutting my work schedule down some, though. Now I've time enough to sleep and do my work._

_Remus mentioned the other day that we might visit Hogsmeade during the weekend before Halloween. I remember you saying that you're sometimes allowed to visit the village. I was hoping we might be able to meet up that afternoon. I wouldn't mind meeting a few more wizard folk my own age. Remus and Tonks (the Auror I told you about before you left) are great and all, but it's better to have someone to talk to that likes the same things I do, you know?_

_I was also hoping you would be able to let me know when the first quidditch match of the year will be? Remus keeps telling me what a great game it is, and how I _have_ to see a game, but the professional season is over._

_Anyway, hope to see you soon._

_All my best,  
Harry_

"No way! You can't be writing to Harry Potter! No one has seen him in years!" Ron Weasley's voice echoed through the nearly-empty library, drawing a dirty look from Madam Pince.

"Shush, Ron!" Hermione hissed. "I thought I told you that I met him over the summer?"

Ron nodded. "You did, but I sorta assumed that you were mistaken... Or that you saw him, but exaggerated..." Ron fell silent. "Sorry, Hermione. I should have known better."

Hermione sighed. "That's alright. I don't know that I would have believed me, either. What is it about me that seems to draw the attention of famous people?"

Ron shrugged. "Beats me. In any case, are we going to get this project for Vector out of the way? I'd kind of like to sleep sometime tonight."

Hermione tucked Harry's letter back into her bag. "Let's see what you've come up with." Hermione read over Ron's notes. "This sounds almost right, but why did you use a four here?"

Ron explained his reasoning, and before long, the project was finished.

* * *

Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples. He had just finished grading first-year essays. To take a break from the never-ending drudgery, he decided to attend to his post. After leafing through and discarding the junk mail, he spotted another muggle envelope. He sighed. It appeared that ignoring the Potter brat wasn't enough to be rid of him. He opened the letter.

_September 30, 1997  
Dear Professor Snape:_

_I apologize for taking your time once again, however I still find myself wary of attempting anything in the potions field, other than reading and rereading the text I mentioned in my last letter. I have yet to find any sort of unifying theme in the reactions listed. Once again, I ask that you recommend a more comprehensive guide your field. As a teacher, I am sure you appreciate the necessity of having accurate sources of information._

_Thank you once more for your time._

_Awaiting your owl,  
Harry J. Potter_

Snape scowled at the letter before pulling a scrap of parchment and his inkwell closer and drafting a response. _If the brat wants more information, then that's what he'll bloody well get._ He was hopeful that the book he was about to recommend would confuse Potter enough to leave him alone. _One Potter a lifetime is one too many._

* * *

Harry managed to locate the Potion's Compendium without too much difficulty. He linked at the price in the catalogue and did a mental conversion of its price. _Two thousand pounds for a book? Bloody hell!_ Shrugging, he placed the order before leaving for school. He was happy Professor Snape had gotten back to him. _I must have _b_ee_n_ right to assume he had _b_ee_nb_usy with prepari_n_g for the school year._

When Harry returned from work that evening, he saw a package waiting for him on the front porch. He remembered Jennifer mentioning something about going out for supper with Beatrice. It was something they did about once or twice a month. 'Girls' Night Out,' they called it. Harry shook his head and wondered if he should order dinner now or wait for Remus and Allen to return.

All thoughts of supper disappeared when he opened the rather large box. The book contained therein was roughly the size of a small table. It was three feet long, two and a half feet wide, and almost twenty inches thick. Harry realized it had to have been spelled to weigh as little as it did. He had no problems lifting it. He grabbed an apple from the kitchen and settled on his bed to thumb through his latest addition to his library.

When he opened the book, he was shocked to see print smaller than the want-ads in the local paper. On the plus side, though, there were several illustrations. Harry shook his head at the tome. He correctly assumed the book was a complete guide of all known potions' ingredients and practices. He was only halfway through page sixteen when Remus poked his head into the room and announced that dinner was ready, courtesy of the sandwich shop six blocks from the repair center.

* * *

**A/N2:** I know it's way shorter than the chappies I've done thus far. I'm sorry. The computer I'm using is missing the 'n' and 'b' and '?' keys (due to a minor accident with a glass of orange juice.) I've had to cut-and-paste them into place. The next chapter will be longer, I promise.

Reviews are wonderful things.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** If you don't get it by now, I doubt you ever will.

**A/N:** Three cheers for a working keyboard! Hip-hip-hooray! Hip-hip-hooray! Hip-hip-hooray!

This chapter is going to be a little different than the ones I've written thus far. If you don't like it, let me know and I'll rewrite it to better match the prior chapters. Likewise, if you _do_ like it, tell me so.

I am still astonished at the response I've gotten from this story. Twenty C2's. Over a hundred alerts. More than seventy-five favorites. Wow. You guys all rock! Thank you for each and every review. They're why this hasn't been abandoned. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Correspondences**

_October 4, 1997  
Dear Hermione,_

_Thanks for your letter. I'm glad that I could amuse you. This Ron character you've mentioned sounds like an interesting sort. You said he plays the keeper position on the Gryffindor quidditch team, right? I'd check your letter, but it seems I've left it at home (I'm writing this over my lunch break at school.) I think it's cool he wants to go into medicine. Remus tells me that's because of his little sister. Said she's in St. Mungo's. Didn't say why, though. I'll admit to being a bit curious. From the way Remus was talking, it sounded like something happened to her at school. You wouldn't happen to know more, would you?_

_In other news, I'll definitely be able to meet with you on the Saturday before Halloween at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Remus has already made sure we have the day off from work. He said we should be there sometime between one and two o'clock in the afternoon. While I'm thinking of visits out your direction, do you know when the next quidditch game is? Remus keeps going on and on about how great a game it is, but since the professional season is over, the Hogwarts house games are the only way I'll get to see a game._

_I also sent another request to your Professor Snape for a more comprehensive guide to potions-making. The text used by the beginning students didn't go into the detail I needed. He sent me a rather brusque note that held only the title Potions Compendium; have you heard of it? I purchased a copy of the book, and it's larger than a small flat! There has to be hundreds of thousands of individual entries. It's bloody massive. The next time you visit, I'll show you what I'm talking about. In any case, size aside, I was wondering if it would be a good idea to see about translating the information in the book into a computer program? I know you said that a computer wouldn't work at Hogwarts - why is that again? - but a program where I would be able to learn the different aspects of brewing without squandering resources... I'm sure you can appreciate the potential of a program like that._

_Tim and I went out to the park a couple of days ago. He builds model airplanes. He'd just finished up a wicked-looking yellow biplane. Unfortunately, I managed to crash it. Tim just laughed at me. 'A landing if ever I saw one,' he said. He had the model fixed in a few moments, so I guess it wasn't as big a deal as I had assumed. You're familiar with the black boxes in commercial aircraft, right? Why not build the entire plane out of that material, if it's so indestructible?_

_Anyhow, I should get to work on my studies._

_See you before long,  
Harry

* * *

_

_October 4, 1997  
Dear Professor Snape:_

_Thank you for your timely response to my inquiry. The book you recommended is precisely what I was looking for, thank you._

_Sincerely,  
Harry J. Potter

* * *

_

_October 6, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_The first quidditch game is scheduled for November thirteenth. It should start at approximately one in the afternoon. Ron's suddenly more nervous about it than I've seen him be about a game since he started playing back in our third year. I imagine it would be something akin to you being requested to paint for the Queen. Not that you're royalty, but that you're as famous as the Queen, at least among wizarding folk._

_Ron is a pretty decent bloke, a little stubborn and thick-headed at times, but most boys are - no offense. He is going into medicine because in our second year, his little sister (a first year at the time) was possessed by the memory of an evil wizard that had been preserved in a diary. She suffered some long-term damage because of it and has been a resident of Saint Mungo's ever since. He is Keeper, you had that right, and he also plays chess quite a bit. He's good enough at the chess that most people we know refuse to play him more than once._

_I'm somewhat shocked that you received a response from Professor Snape; he isn't the friendliest of people. In fact, he can be downright scary at times. One of my fellow Gryffindors, Neville Longbottom, was naturally inept at potions, and for our first two years, Professor Snape had Neville completely terrified in class. I'd never seen someone so relieved as Neville when he realized he didn't have to continue in potions beyond our fifth year._

_Computers won't work at Hogwarts for two main reasons; the first is that there isn't any electricity here; the second is that there is too much magic in the atmosphere around places like Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley for electricity to work properly. I came to Hogwarts with a digital watch my first year. It was rather amusing. The watch never once told the time while I was here. It would display random gibberish or impossible times, once it showed that it was eighty five minutes past thirty before running backwards for a full day. That was the closest it ever came to working while at Hogwarts._

_I like the idea for a computer program on potions, even though it wouldn't be able to be used while at school. I can't help but wonder if it would be of benefit to the research and development of new potions._

_I'll write more later, I have to get to arithmancy._

_See you later!  
Hermione_

_P.S. Ron was wondering if he could ask a few questions in my next letter?

* * *

_

_October 8, 1997  
Dear Hermione,_

_I don't mind if Ron has questions for me. I can't guarantee I'll answer them all, but he's welcome to ask._

_I talked with Jennifer, and she's agreed to work on developing a computer program for potions. I don't recall if I mentioned it before, but that's what Jenn does; she's a freelance software designer. She took a look at the book, though, and stated that she would need to have the contents of the book transcribed into a digital database before beginning. She shipped the book to an agency that does that sort of thing. Don't worry about the secrecy thing, she said that it was a fictional supplement to one of those role-playing-games you hear about every now and again. You know the ones, where a bunch of people get together and pretend to be werewolves or vampires for the night? Oh, well. It doesn't really matter much._

_In other news, my truck is completely up and running – electrical system and all! I have a radio! She still looks like a rotting rust bucket, but she's not going to stay that way for very long. Tim wants me to do a custom paint job; you know, use some of my artwork on it. I'm not so sure I want to do that, though. I know I _could_, but I'm a little nervous about displaying my art so… prominently. What do you think? Should I? Or would it be too tacky?_

_Your watch said what now? And running backwards? Really? Or are you having me on?_

_Remus says, "Hi." As does Jennifer and Allen._

_Looking forward to visiting at the end of the month,  
Harry

* * *

_

_October 15, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_Sorry about how long this took, but Ron was agonizing over what he wanted to ask you. I think he thought that you were a Djinni and would only answer a set number. His questions are in the PS at the end of the letter._

_I didn't know that Jennifer was a software designer. Freelance? That explains why I had assumed she was a housewife. If she's self-employed, especially in computers, there isn't any reason to leave for work, now is there?_

_Me worry? Hah. (Ron just read that and fell out of his chair laughing. I don't think he agrees with me.) Anyway, I know most places that do that sort of thing don't care what they're transferring. I am looking forward to seeing the program Jennifer comes up with. If possible, you should make sure she includes revision and testing features. By the way, how's that charm I showed you holding up?_

_Good to hear about the truck. What did you name it again? Virulent? I don't think I'll ever understand why some people feel the need to name their vehicles. As to your artwork… I guess it depends on what, exactly, you'll put on the truck. Some custom paint jobs are more tacky than others._

_Yes, my watch was really a complete mess all through my first year. That summer, I talked my parents into getting me an analog one. I haven't had any trouble with it since._

_Greetings to all and sundry back your way,  
Hermione_

_P.S. Hi, Harry. My name is Ron Weasley. Hermione said that she'd met you over the summer and you are friends now. I'm sorry if it seems I'm butting in where I'm not welcome, if so, just tell me to bugger off. It's just that there's so much mystery surrounding you… I couldn't pass up the opportunity to talk to you._

_I wanted to know why you didn't come to Hogwarts when you were supposed to. No one here knows, or if they do know, they aren't telling anyone why. I mean, you could have gone to one of the other magic schools just as easily as Hogwarts, but I know from talking with Hermione that you didn't go to any magic school, but a muggle one instead. How was muggle school? What do they teach there? What sort of sports are you involved in? Do you play chess?_

_Hermione's reading over my shoulder and blinking at me. I think she thinks I've rattled on long enough. She tells me you will be visiting soon? If so, I hope to meet you in person then._

_Ron

* * *

_

_October 17, 1997  
Dear Ron,_

_Not so big a mystery as you might think. Simply put, I didn't go to a magic school because my muggle relatives said I couldn't. When my parents died, I was sent to live with my Aunt Petunia and her family. They don't like me much, and _hate_ anything magical. When I was eleven, Hagrid (do you know him? He works at Hogwarts,) showed up and told me I was a wizard and I could learn magic at Hogwarts. My aunt said I wasn't allowed to go. So I went to a normal secondary school._

_My school is called Stonewall, and it's like any other public school, I suppose. I have taken classes in arithmetic, sciences, history, art, economics, and more. I'm not involved in any of the school sports; once again, my aunt wouldn't let me. I know how to play chess, but I'm not that good at it._

_Yes, I will be visiting on the Saturday before Halloween. Hermione knows when and where, if you want to come with her, we could meet in person. Hermione's been telling me how famous I am in the wizarding world, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep the information to yourself. I'd rather not be hounded. I don't much care for large crowds of people._

_Write soon,  
Harry

* * *

_

_October 17, 1997  
Dear Hermione,_

_I sent Ron his own letter._

_Hey! The truck's name is _Viridian_! And I know what you mean about tackiness being a variable. I really don't like those cars people insist on painting fake flames onto. Maybe I should do something really subtle… I know I can shade the underlying color to start as one color at one end of the truck and fade slowly to a different color on the other end… Over that, I don't know… Any ideas?_

_The charm works like a charm. (Don't groan! That's the best I could come up with at three in the morning!)_

_See you soon,  
Harry

* * *

_

_October 20, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_WHY ARE YOU UP AT THREE IN THE MORNING? Get some sleep! You'll be no good in class if you're not well-rested._

_I'm glad to hear the charm's working for you. And why would I groan? Other than the fact that it was the worst pun I'd ever had the misfortune of reading, that is?_

_Sorry. Viridian. I'll remember that now. I don't like the painted-on flames, either. The color fade sounds like a good place to start. Do you know what colors you'd use?_

_Only five more days!  
Hermione

* * *

_

_October 22, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_Thanks for replying to me. Pity about your family. Thanks for answering my questions. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're visiting. I would like to meet you in person, if that's okay._

_Ron

* * *

_

_October 22, 1997  
Dear Hermione,_

_Three days. I suddenly find myself nervous for no explicable reason. Is this common, do you think? I've not been to a wizarding town before, and have only visited Diagon Alley once… What if people don't like me? Or worse, what if they do? You've told me and told me that I'm famous… What if I get mobbed?_

_I should stop thinking about it. It's not going to do me any good worrying about it._

_I was up at three in the morning because I couldn't sleep. I'd been having a weird dream and couldn't fall back asleep after it was over._

_Three days and counting,  
Harry

* * *

_

_October 24, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_Just tomorrow! Three Broomsticks, between one and two, right?_

_Can't wait!  
Hermione

* * *

_

**A/N2:** And another short chapter out of the way. I had to fill in some time, and this seemed like a nice break from the normal chapter, especially since the last chapter was so short.

I know more people would like to see more of Snape, and I promise you will, just not for a bit.

People keep asking about Sirius, as well, and I promise he'll eventually show up in the story.

Harry will be visiting Hogsmeade in the next chapter, though I'm not sure if he'll be visiting the school, as well.

There was a request for more of Harry's training. I'll show that in a bit more detail once he gets the basics out of the way. Keep in mind, Remus is training Harry in the required courses. When we get past the basics, I'll include more detail on his magical training.

As to everything that I have planned, and I do have a vague sort of plan, I can only say that meeting Ron will likely start things rolling.

Remember, if there's anything you want to see happen, drop me a line and if I think it will fit in well with the story, I'll include it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Do you think I might be JKR in disguise? Wow, you're deluded.

**A/N:** I got rather a mixed response from the last chapter; not that it wasn't unexpected. This chapter should be a bit more like a normal chapter. And like I mentioned, Ron starts the major plot rolling.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: A Pull of Memory**

To anyone else, the level of anticipation Harry felt at visiting Britain's only all-wizard town would have been comparable to the anticipation felt on Christmas eve, or just before a birthday. However, as the Dursleys never truly included Harry in their Christmas festivities, and did their level best to ignore his birthday, it was safe to say that he was feeling the highest level of anticipation he had ever felt before. He was unable to get to sleep until very late, it was nearing four in the morning, and he awoke at six. He stared at his alarm clock in blurry disbelief. _There was no way I've only been sleeping for two hours!_

Harry knew it was pointless to try to go back to sleep, even for a little bit, so he got up and got showered, shaved, dressed, et cetera. He wasn't sure what sort of clothes to wear, so he decided to combine muggle and wizarding wear. He pulled on a pair of jeans that were almost white, a light green short-sleeved button-down shirt, a pair of dragonhide boots, and a cream-colored tie. He figured he'd wear the dark green robe over the ensemble. Looking at himself in the mirror, he realized it was probably a bit too formal to wear to meet with Hermione. _I like her as a friend, but there's no reason to give her the impression that this is a date when we both know it isn't… Grr… What else have I?_

Harry decided on keeping the jeans and boots; they were rather comfortable. Instead of the button-down and tie, though, he located a t-shirt that Tonks had given him. It had a moving picture of a dragon on it and the back had all the dates for the 1996 Weird Sisters tour. He wasn't sure if he should wear a robe or not, and figured he'd ask Remus before they left. He glanced at the clock and found that he'd managed to waste an hour and a half. The smell of corned beef hash drew him to the kitchen like a magnet.

After breakfast and some lessons in wizarding culture from Remus, Harry and the werewolf left for the Leaky Cauldron at eleven. They flooed to the Three Broomsticks, and as it was still a tad early for lunch – not to mention meeting up with Hermione and Ron – Remus took Harry on a quick tour of the town, including the real reason the Shrieking Shack existed. At a quarter to one, Remus led the way back to the tavern. They had just located an out-of-the-way table and ordered butterbeers when Hermione, followed by a tall, gangly redhead, entered the pub. Harry stood and waived his friend and her companion over to their table.

"Hermione!" Harry greeted her and turned to the redhead. "And you must be Ron," he offered his hand.

"That's right. Good to finally meet you," Ron shook the brunette's hand. _He's a bit shorter than I thought he would be…_

"Have a seat. Do either of you two want anything to eat? Drink?" Harry offered.

Ron shrugged, looking to Hermione to lead the way. Though he could always eat something, he wasn't about to order something if no one else was. Hermione nodded, "The butterbeer here is quite good, but I already ate up at the castle before we left."

Remus flagged Rosmerta and ordered two more butterbeers for Hermione and Ron. "Do either of you two mind if we get some lunch, then? We've not eaten yet." A stray wisp of scent tickled the back of Remus' nose. He couldn't quite place it, though it felt as though the smell should be very familiar.

Hermione shook her head, "No, go ahead. Ron?"

Ron grinned and added an order of pie to Harry and Remus' lunch order. Ron felt a bit odd having lunch with a former professor, but quickly got over it when he realized that though Remus had been a professor, there was a good couple of years distancing him from that time, and Remus was as cool outside the classroom as he was in it. "So…" Ron glanced from Harry to Remus and back. "What have you been doing since you left Hogwarts, Professor? Sorry. Remus."

Remus smiled, "A bit of this, a bit of that. I've done some translation work for the French Ministry, ran some errands for Albus, and, of course, I'm tutoring Harry in magic. If he keeps on at the pace he's been going at, he should be ready to sit the OWLs by Yule; either that or work himself to death."

Hermione grinned, "I can imagine. I know you're still going to muggle school, and I couldn't imagine trying to do that, learn magic, _and _hold down a job at the same time. Third year was enough for me."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his friend, "Oh? What happened third year?"

Ron laughed, "This psychotic bookworm couldn't decide which classes to take, and ended up signing up for _all_ of them. I thought she was going to have a mental breakdown before the year ended. I still don't know how she managed to be in all her classes, though. Some of them were held at the same times…"

Hermione smiled a little secret grin that told Harry there was definitely something she hadn't shared with the redhead. He made a mental note to ask her about it at a later date. Harry shrugged, "Must have been magic."

Ron chuckled, "Even _I _know that much, Harry. I just can't figure out _what _magic."

Hermione snickered into her mug of butterbeer. Harry had the feeling that she'd been surreptitiously teasing Ron about it ever since their third year.

"Anyway, Hermione tells me you like to play chess." Harry cast about looking for a topic of conversation.

"Yeah, but hardly anyone will play with me anymore. It's not my fault that they don't know how to play properly and I keep winning. I like quidditch a bit more, though. It's outside, faster, and there are more things happening to keep track of. I still get to use the strategy skills from chess, but I also get a bit of exercise and the adrenaline rush is just… wow."

"Is it really all that?" Harry asked. "I mean, Remus has told me a bit about it, but I've never seen a game. Hell, I've never even been on a broom before. You said you use strategy? So are you the team captain? Or do you just come up with the plays? Or are there even plays?" Hermione sighed and looked resigned to a discussion on quidditch. Remus caught her eye and the two quietly sat discussing politics while Ron went into far more detail on his favorite pastime than anyone but Harry could or would have been able to tolerate; in fact, Ron took an hour to fully explain the game.

When the animated quidditch discussion wound down, Remus and Hermione rejoined the conversation. "Ron, does your father still work at the ministry?" Remus asked.

Ron nodded, "Yeah. Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Why?"

"I was just musing over a few things that could use his input, that's all."

"Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?" Harry queried. "What's that mean?"

"Sometimes a wizard will think it's a great prank to give a charmed object to a muggle. Like a key that constantly shrinks, so the muggle has to keep buying replacements. Or they charm things like public toilets to regurgitate, or make shocking doorknobs. Stuff like that." Ron explained.

"It's called 'Muggle Baiting,' and is usually punished by a fine. It can and does go too far every now and then. Like a couple of years ago when that guy was caught obliviating little girls after he'd molested them. I think he was sentenced to ten years in Azkaban." Hermione looked thoughtful. "Yeah, it was ten years."

"Azkaban?"

"Prison. It's guarded by these creatures called dementors. A dementor feeds off the joy and happiness a person carries. It's rare for someone to live in Azkaban for more than a year or so without loosing their mind." Remus finished his butterbeer. Thinking of Azkaban made him think of Sirius. _Don't, Remus. Just don't. That way lays madness._ He caught another whiff of that maddeningly familiar scent and it brought to mind his old friends all the more. The wolf he kept firmly buried at the back of his mind was suddenly trying to escape again. The old anger at his so-called friend refreshed itself. He blinked and realized he was still in the Three Broomsticks, Harry and Hermione looking at him with concern, Ron distracted by something over Remus' shoulder. He shook his head, simultaneously dismissing the past and reassuring Hermione and Harry that he was fine. He glanced over his shoulder to see what Ron was glaring at. He sighed. It was Severus Snape.

Hermione had shifted her glance, as well, catching sight of Snape. Though she couldn't stand the Potions Master, she hid it well. She shifted in her seat and kicked Ron's shin, "Quit glaring at him, Ron, or he'll find ways to take points." Ron scowled and tore his gaze from the professor and busied himself with his tankard of butterbeer.

"Who is that?" Harry asked.

"That's Professor Snape." Hermione replied.

Harry smiled. "Oh. Thanks. I'll be right back." He stood from the table and approached the potions teacher.

"What's he doing?" Hermione asked Remus.

"I have no idea." Remus said, tracking Harry's progress across the room with his eyes.

* * *

A/N2: This should be the last of the shorter chapters, for the time being. Had I had a working keyboard at the time, chapters six through eight would have all been one chapter. Now that I have a working keyboard, once I have the time, I'll go through and re-edit a few of my chapters to make them more Brit-friendly, and when I do that, I'll condense these three into a single chapter.

In the next chapter we can expect to find Harry's first face-to-face conversation with Snape, a segment from Dumbledore's point of view, as well as some fun with Harry's muggle friends. We might also see some of what Andie and Tonks have been doing with regards to the Dursleys, but I haven't decided yet.

Reviews are like candy. Even the smallest ones are enough to make me hyper.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** It's mine. Sure it is. And if you believe that, I've got this bridge I want to sell you…

**A/N:** This should be a normal-length chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Mistakes Brought to Light**

Severus Snape wasn't having a good day. Far from it, in fact. His latest experiment needed more mermaid blood, but he didn't have the extra bottle he thought he did in his store-room. He had worked through lunch, and the blasted house-elves ignored his call. A small corner of his mind was trying to explain that that was what he deserved after scaring them so badly when they tried to clean his workroom and quarters, but the rest of his mind was busy conjuring ways to torture the little blighters.

As much as he loathed having to go into Hogsmeade on a weekend where the students had been set loose to run amok, he knew he didn't have any other options. Unless he wanted to wait until Monday to continue his experiment, which he certainly didn't want to do. He was also a bit hungry, and he knew if he went to the kitchens after a plate of sandwiches, the house-elves would be likely to panic so badly that nothing in the castle would be cooked or cleaned for a full three days.

On his way out of the castle, his bad day was compounded by stumbling across Draco Malfoy in a rather compromising situation with a Hufflepuff third year by the name of Euan O'Mallary. Rubbing at his temples, he quickly decided to ignore the children for now. It would suffice to send a letter to Lucius. Draco definitely needed to learn subtlety. In all honesty, Severus was severely disappointed in the recent additions to Slytherin house. The last one that, in his opinion, was _truly_ Slytherin had been Theodore Nott. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to deserve the house, Draco wasn't subtle enough, Parkinson was too brash; the list went on and on. The petite Greengrass girl might make a decent Slytherin, but her family was almost as poor as the Weasleys. All the ambition and cunning in the world wouldn't do her a bit of good if she didn't have the gold to fund her plans. She was still planning on going into politics. Severus shook his head. _The real politicians will chew her up and spit her out in less than a week._

Lost in his musings on his snakes, he managed to surprise himself when he arrived at the apothecary. A little silver bell over the door jangled as Severus entered the dimly lit shop. Luckily, there were only a couple of students here. Snape recognized all three as sixth year Ravenclaws. He was almost certain they were just restocking their potions kits. None of the ingredients they held were proscribed in any way, and all three had beetle eyes – a common ingredient in the potions he was teaching the sixth years this month. Once the triad of students was gone, Severus located mermaid blood and paid for it, then made his way to the Three Broomsticks. It was late enough that there shouldn't be many people still there for lunch, and was too early for the dinner crowd to have shown. He felt he should have plenty of time to eat before the tavern became crowded once again.

He noticed that only a couple of tables were full when he entered the tavern, and only one of them had any students at it. Much as he would prefer there be no students, he felt that he could ignore them, if they'd ignore him. He sat at the bar and waited patiently for Madam Rosmerta to return from one of the tables. He had only been sitting a few moments when someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Professor Snape?"

Snape mentally growled at the interruption. His mind couldn't place the voice immediately, so he figured it had to be one of the quieter students. Probably one that he had missed in his scan of the room. He turned around. "_What?_" he sneered.

He was somewhat taken aback to realize it wasn't a student at all. For a split second, Severus thought he was being visited by ghosts from his past. Then he realized the eyes peering out from behind glass were brilliant green, not muddy hazel. And the glasses were rectangular rimless ones, not round black frames. The boy's face, as well, though at first glance was a carbon-copy of his teenage tormentor, was a bit more pointed than James Potter's had been. And in place of a superior smirk, there was a guileless smile, as though the boy was truly pleased to see him. "Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but I wanted to thank you again for your book recommendation."

"Pardon?"

Harry laughed softly, "Sorry, I didn't introduce myself, did I? I'm Harry Potter. I wrote you a couple of times for a recommendation of more complete reading material." He offered his hand to the tall man dressed all in black.

A little disturbed that his expectations had been so far off the mark, Severus could do naught else but shake the boy's hand. He refused to allow his surprise to show on his face, however. "Ah, yes. Mister Potter. You're being home-schooled."

"That's right. My tutor doesn't feel that he's qualified to teach potions, so I'm having to learn it mostly on my own, and like I mentioned in the letters, I would rather know what I'm doing before I try to do it."

"Your caution is commendable. If only others your age had that same attitude, accidents in my classroom would be next to nonexistent." Severus was still uneasy that _this_ boy could _possibly_ be related to James Potter. Their attitudes seemed diametrically opposed to one another. Severus subtly checked for glamours, and confirmed that it was indeed his late nemesis' son before him.

Harry felt his skin prickle as Snape's spell washed over him. "What was that?" he asked, his smile fading.

Once more, Severus was surprised by the teen in front of him. _Not many people can detect that particular spell. I know Albus can, but he's got more than a century of experience to draw on, as well as a better-than-average magical strength._ His mind working overtime, Severus quickly came to a decision. "My apologies. I was rather taken aback by your manner. I had… somewhat different expectations of you."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, unknowingly copying one of Snape's favored nonverbal questions. "Different?"

Severus nodded, "Yes. I had assumed you would be more like your father in attitude, not just looks."

"You knew my Dad?"

Severus nodded, "Unfortunately."

Harry blinked. This was unexpected. Harry bit his lip for a moment, while his brain pulled up some of the stories Remus had told him about when he and his father were still in school. "I see. You're _that_ Severus. The one that was involved in a prank war with my father and his friends." Harry chuckled softly and shook his head, "I don't see how I could be like Dad when I don't even remember him. I didn't even learn the truth about him until I met Remus this summer."

_The mystery grows,_ Severus thought. "I thought you were sent to live with your aunt and uncle."

Harry scowled, "I was, but they didn't tell me anything about my parents. At least, nothing true. They had told me they died in a car accident and that my Dad was an unemployed drunk."

Severus wasn't sure how to react. He had been prepared to hate Harry Potter ever since he realized the 'brat' would be turning eleven and he would likely have to teach him. The anticipation of hatred and preconceptions based on the Potter name didn't stand up to meeting the teen. That quiet corner of Snape's brain that had berated him earlier for his treatment of the house-elves was laughing and chanting _told you so_ in a sing-song voice, interspersed with _You should know better than to judge someone by the name they carry_. In the short span of speaking with Potter, he came to the conclusion that, though the boy likely didn't remember his mother, either, his attitude was more like Lily's than that of James. Changing the subject back to something he was more comfortable discussing, Severus asked, "Have you had a chance to look through the Compendium?"

Harry nodded, "Yes. I've read the first two chapters. It is precisely what I was looking for. It explains why some ingredients have to be prepared the way they do, why some potions have to be stirred just _so_, and all those other pesky little details that the other text I looked at didn't include. I'm actually considering having the contents of the book converted into a computer program so that I can 'practice' brewing without risking life and limb until I feel comfortable that I know what I'm doing."

"A computer program?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. I don't know how familiar you are with technology, but computers are getting to be really advanced. They're also no where near as costly as they were even ten years ago, once you adjust everything for inflation, that is."

Severus made a mental note to look into the status of modern technology. Once he'd determined what could be done, he would then re-evaluate the truth of Potter's claim. "How long do you think that would take?"

Harry shrugged. "A couple of months, or thereabouts. It's not like I need a graphics-heavy program. What will take the longest is simply copying the information from the book to a database. When the program's completed, would you want to take a look at it? I'd be grateful for any additional information or ideas."

Severus slowly nodded, if what Potter was saying was true, then it could become a valuable tool. The only downside he could see would be locating or creating a machine that could run it in a magic-heavy area. Or coming up with a spell that did the same thing.

"Thanks." Harry glanced over his shoulder to where Hermione, Ron, and Remus were watching him from their table. "It was a pleasure meeting you, professor, but I should rejoin my friends."

Severus nodded again, "Likewise, Mr. Potter." The teen hurried back to his table and Severus pondered the many mysteries and questions he had been left with, his bad day forgotten for the moment.

* * *

That evening, Harry and Remus returned to the Kellermans' house after leaving Ron and Hermione with promises to attend the next quidditch match at Hogwarts. There were still a few hours before dinner would be ready, so Harry and Remus adjourned to the back yard to practice Harry's dueling skills. A few weeks earlier, Remus had warded the yard to mask all magical activity from muggle eyes. To the neighbors, it would look like Harry and Remus were playing catch.

Bowing to one another, they paced off the required length. "_Expelliarmus!_" Harry shouted.

"_Protego._" Remus incanted the shield with a lazy twirl of his wand. "_Tarantallegra!_"

"_Protego_!" Harry's shield was conjured just in time. The curse bounced off and hit the ground. "_Petrificus totalus_!"

Remus sidestepped the curse, and shot a blinding curse back at Harry. Harry saw it coming and dove out of the way, sending another body-bind Remus' direction.

"Concentrate, Harry! That last one missed me by a mile." Remus chided. "_Expelliarmus_!"

Harry rolled out of the way and scowled at his tutor. "_Wingardium leviosa_!"

Remus suddenly found himself suspended a good six feet off the ground. He started laughing. "Good show, Harry. Now put me down."

Harry gently lowered Remus back to the ground and the duo took a five minute break before beginning again. The second time they dueled, Remus won by catching Harry with a densaugeo hex. He was laughing hard enough that Harry's teeth had almost reached his collarbones before he could incant the anti-jinx. Harry also lost their third match to a rictusempra that managed to sneak past his shield.

They were about to start their fourth match when Jennifer called them in to dinner. "How was your day out, boys?" she asked while filling their plates with sliced roast beef and potatoes.

"Not bad, Jenn. Met up with Hermione. She also introduced me to one of her friends. Also ran into Professor Snape. He's that teacher I told you about that recommended the Compendium for my potions studies. I let him know that we're working on translating it into a computer program and he agreed to take a look at it when we finish."

"We?" Jennifer questioned, irony thick in her tone. "We, you say? Don't you mean _me_?"

Harry grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "It _was_ my idea, you know."

Jenn shook her head, "What am I going to do with you?"

After dinner, Remus and Harry cleared the table, setting aside a plate for Allen for when he returned from the shop. They were manually washing the dishes – Harry found the minor chore to be rather relaxing – when Harry asked, "What happened earlier today? When that Azkaban place came up, it looked like you went somewhere else for a moment."

Remus sighed. "Just some bad memories, Harry."

"What memories? Surely _you_ never had to go there, did you?"

Remus put the last plate in the cupboard and conjured a pot of tea. "No, I never have. I just… It's… kind of hard to explain."

"Why don't you try? You'll probably feel better about it if you talk to someone. I'd prefer you talk to me, if only to cure my curiosity, but –"

Remus nodded and interrupted Harry, "You're right. I should probably tell you. It's just that it still hurts a bit."

Harry sat the pot of tea on the table and poured himself a cup. He used his foot to push out a chair. "Sit down, Remus."

Remus did so and took a shaky breath. "You remember what I told you about the night your parents died?"

Harry nodded, "Voldemort killed them."

"That's right. But what I didn't tell you is that he shouldn't have even been able to locate your family. There's a spell called the Fidelius Charm. What that does is hide one secret in the soul of a living being. Whatever knowledge is hidden is completely inaccessible to anyone not told directly by the secret-keeper."

"And my family was protected by this charm?"

Remus nodded, "That's right. You remember me telling you about the Marauders? Me, your dad, a boy named Peter, and Sirius?"

"Yes, though you've not mentioned the other two very much."

"The reason, Harry, is because Sirius was your father's best friend. Those two were more like brothers than friends…" Remus paused, lost in memory for a moment. "He was your family's secret-keeper. The day after your parents were killed, he managed to locate Peter. Peter shouted that Sirius had betrayed you and Sirius ended up killing him. Killing him and a streetful of muggles, too. He's been in Azkaban ever since. When the aurors arrested him, he was laughing." Remus scrubbed a hand across his face, "In the space of twenty-four hours, I managed to lose all my friends. Three to the betrayal of the fourth. You'll pardon me if I haven't quite gotten over it."

Harry didn't know what to say, _And I thought my life sucked._ He got up and gave Remus a hug before leaving Remus to himself.

Remus was lost in memories. Memories of receiving the news that his life had changed irrevocably in the span of a single day. Memories of pranks pulled in the name of the Marauders. Memories of researching and creating a very special map. Memories of helping the other three study for exams. Half-formed dreamlike visions of running under the full moon with a stag, dog, and a rat. He gasped, his mind drawing a connection that hadn't been there before. _That scent from earlier! I remember now that I have smelled it before. Back when I was teaching… I _do_ know it! It smelled like Peter's animagus form! But… That can't be, can it? It was clinging to the Weasley boy like a macabre perfume… I have to be imagining things… It _can't _be Peter. The implications… Oh, gods. If it _is_ Peter, then Sirius didn't kill him… I need to talk to Dumbledore… Albus will be able to put this to rest… Oh, please._ He refused to even think what he wanted to be true, for fear that it wouldn't happen.

* * *

"…and I fully believe the investigation can be closed at any time. There's no way for Vernon Dursley to weasel his way out of the charges, and it's likely that Petunia will be charged with neglect, as well. If we do continue with this, there's a better-than-average chance that Dudley will end up in a reform program. He would definitely be removed from the Dursley household as a precaution, even if by some miracle Vernon and Petunia _do_ escape the charges." Andromeda Tonks took a sip of tea.

Her daughter took over the narrative, "If we continue, we need to know if we will be dealing with the Ministry, muggle authorities, or both. I agree with Mum, further investigation isn't needed. Personally, I believe the most damming bit of evidence against them is that they never contacted the muggle police when Harry disappeared. Granted, he did leave them a note that he was going to the Kellermans, but neither the Kellermans nor Harry have had any contact with the Dursleys since before that morning."

Dumbledore stroked his silver beard, lost in thought. "And what is Harry's opinion?"

Andromeda looked to her daughter. Tonks shrugged, "I don't think he cares much what happens to the Dursleys, so long as he's left in peace."

"Perhaps you should ask his opinion. He would have a better idea than I what the best course of action would be from here." Dumbledore sighed. "I find myself regretting ever leaving him with those people."

Andie shook her head, "You couldn't have known, Albus. Most people, when faced with their infant relative and asked to care for him like he was their own, would do just that. You couldn't have foreseen any of this."

"If I had listened to Minerva's suspicions-"

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Albus. I'm sure you thought you were doing the best thing for Harry. Am I right?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Of course. But they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions…"

Andie made a dismissing motion with her hand, "Pshaw. You never cared much for what 'they' say, don't start now. You might want to take the time to talk to Harry directly, though. I'm sure if you give him a chance, you just might find that everything worked out alright in the end."

"Thank you for the information, Andromeda, Nymphadora." Tonks scowled at the headmaster for the use of her first name. "Do keep me abreast of the situation. However, I have a staff meeting in only a half an hour."

"Of course, Albus. We'll keep in touch." Andie lead her daughter to the fireplace and flooed out of the headmaster's office.

He sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts and some paperwork that was needed for the upcoming meeting. He was startled a bit by the mirror in his pocket chiming. He removed it from his robe, "Remus? How can I help you?"

Remus' face was pale and there were stress lines visible around his eyes. The headmaster thought he might be imagining it, but there seemed to be a few more grey hairs, too. "Albus, I…"

Concerned, Dumbledore smiled, "Calm down, my boy. What has you so upset? Is Harry alright?"

Remus nodded, "Harry's fine, sir. It's not to do with him. I just noticed something today that could change everything…"

"How so?" Dumbledore was curious. There wasn't much that could upset Remus.

"Can I come over and explain in person? I just don't know if I'm imagining things or if it really is possible…"

Dumbledore nodded, "Certainly, Remus. Come on over. I'll meet you in the entrance hall. We can talk after the staff meeting is over. I don't anticipate the meeting to take long."

Remus nodded, "I'll be right there." The mirror fogged over and when the fog dissipated, Remus was no longer visible.

An hour later, Remus was explaining the familiar scent that lingered around Ronald Weasley. "Are you certain of this, Remus?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus laughed mirthlessly. "I'm not sure of anything, Albus. It's been so long…"

"I know Mr. Weasley has a pet rat. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see if it's possible your nose is as keen as you assume."

"Or if I need a stay at Saint Mungo's."

Dumbledore nodded, "Or that." He scribbled a note to Ron on a scrap of parchment and had Fawkes deliver it.

* * *

Harry answered his phone on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Harry. Whacha doing tonight?" Nigel asked.

"Not much. Studying mostly."

"Can you spare a night out?"

Harry shrugged, noticed that he shrugged and mentally berated himself for the action, "Dunno. Probably. Why?"

"It's my night off, and I'm bored out of my mind. I wanted to check out that new club downtown, but I don't want to go alone. Mike and Tim are both working and don't get off for another three hours."

"Don't know about the club – you know I'm not much of a barfly, but I could certainly use a night away from home."

"It's settled then, I'll be by to pick you up in half an hour."

"Whatever, see you shortly." Harry clicked off the phone.

Thirty minutes later, Nigel and Harry were on their way to London. Though not much of a drinker, Harry did manage to have fun trying to dance. A pretty blonde girl about a year older than he was monopolized his dancing, though. When he and Nigel finally left, at a quarter to midnight, he couldn't even remember her name.

* * *

_Mr. Weasley,_

_Please bring your pet rat to the Headmaster's office immediately; it is a matter of some urgency._

_-Albus Dumbledore_

Ron looked from the note to the phoenix that delivered it and back. "What's that, Ron?" Seamus Finnegan asked.

"Note from Dumbledore." He handed his dorm-mate the note.

"What's he want with Scabbers, I wonder?" Seamus handed the note back.

"Dunno." Ron said as he scooped the sleeping rat off his pillow and into his pocket. "I know I'm not in trouble… I've not done anything recently. I also never used Scabbers in a prank."

"Let me know when you find out?"

Ron nodded, "Sure. Will you let Hermione know I'll be late to the study session tonight? I don't know how long this will take."

"Sure. Speaking of Hermione… When are you gonna screw up enough courage to ask her out? You've only been pining for her since fourth year."

Ron scowled. "Have not."

"Riiight. And th' moon's made a'green cheese."

"Whatever. I need to get going before Dumbledore sends McGonagall after me." Ron hurried out of the dorm. He located the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office without too much difficulty, even though he hadn't been there since second year. Thinking of second year brought a lump to Ron's throat. _Someday, Ginny, I'll fix what's wrong with you. I promise._ He swallowed the lump and jumped a little as the gargoyle moved out of the way.

When he arrived in the office, he saw that Professor Lupin was there, as well as his head-of-house and Professor Snape. He cupped a hand around the pocket in which Scabbers slept on. "What's this about, sir?"

Professor Lupin answered. "I noticed a scent around you earlier at the Three Broomsticks that I thought familiar."

Ron shook his head, "Scent?"

"Werewolf, Weasley. Use your head for something besides keeping your ears apart." Snape drawled. "It seems the wolf here recognized the scent of an old… _friend._"

"What?" Ron was more confused than ever. "A friend? Headmaster, what's going on?"

The headmaster turned twinkling eyes from his potions master to the redheaded teen standing before him. "What these two," he gestured towards Snape and Lupin, "have been trying unsuccessfully to communicate is that there is the possibility that your rat is actually an animagus in disguise."

Ron paled. "No way!"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Weasley. That is why we called you to the office. There is a simple spell we can use to determine if there is any basis for the suspicion, other than wishful thinking." McGonagall stated.

"It won't hurt him, will it?"

"Rest assured, Ronald, it won't harm your pet. If he is an animagus, then all it will do is force him to reveal his human form. If he is indeed a rat, nothing will happen." Dumbledore reached in his pocket and withdrew something small and yellow and popped it into his mouth.

Ron reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, fat rat. The rat stirred, blinking watery blue eyes up at Ron. "Set him on the floor there," McGonagall pointed. Ron did as he was asked. When Scabbers was on the floor, he rose to his hind legs and craned his neck to look around the room, his whiskers twitching.

Dumbledore stood with his wand in hand, and cast the animagus-detection spell. A flash of light surrounded Scabbers, and when it faded, a balding, chubby man with a rat-like face lay twitching on the floor of the headmaster's office.

* * *

**A/N2:** I hope that satisfies everyone. More Sirius and Snape to come in upcoming chapters.

When I get that far, do you want to see a magic-compatible computer surface, or should a spell be developed to act the same way as Harry's potions program?

Reviews make the world go 'round.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I really don't think anyone reads these, do you? Oh, well. Have to appease the lawyers; ergo I don't own HP&Co.

**A/N:** This story never ceases to amaze me with how popular it is. You guys all rock! If I could send cookies over the internet, I would. So go have a cookie and tell yourself it's from me. :-)

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Repercussions**

The rat-cum-human stood and twitched nervously, looking for an exit. "Peter?" The man jumped and whirled around at the word, whispered in tones of disbelief.

"Indeed, Remus, this does change everything." Peter's eyes darted to the headmaster. He took a step backwards, hoping to flee.

"I don't think so, Pettigrew. I still owe you for that incident with the pink hair." Severus snarled.

Peter had heard enough. Somehow, he'd been found out. Panic rose, an acrid taste in the back of his throat. _Time to go…_ He melted back into his rat form and attempted to scurry away.

Ron was livid. Though he could appreciate a practical joke as much as the next guy – and having the twins as older brothers, he liked to think his tolerance of being the victim of a joke or prank to be a bit above the national average – this went far beyond the line of acceptability. The rat had not only fooled him, but his entire family as well. Ron saw the rat try to escape, and had his wand out in a flash. Faster, even, than Snape, or the headmaster. "_Stupefy!_" Ron flung the stunning spell with everything he had in him. Poor Peter Pettigrew didn't have a chance. His rodent form slumped to the floor.

All four adults in the room not masquerading as a rodent were forcibly reminded of Molly Weasley as they bore witness to her youngest son's temper. Ron's face was pale white – even the freckles seemed drained of color – except for two bright red splotches across his cheekbones that bled over onto the tips of his ears. His jaw was clenched so tightly that they could hear his teeth grinding together. He was glaring at the rat, and even someone not skilled at legilimency could almost see the visions of murderous rage flitting through his mind. His magic, though, wasn't flaring at all; rare for an adult suffering a bout of temper, and all but unheard of in a hormonal teenager. Rather than a physical manifestation of his magic, Weasley seemed to be seeping pure intimidation from his pores. Even Snape was a little taken aback at the display the often-oafish teen was showing. _And we see a glimpse of the man he will someday become…_

"Unless you want a dead rat, Professors, I suggest you get it away from me." Ron spat the sentence from between clenched teeth. Minerva hastened to place the animagus in a conjured cage until he could be dealt with. Once the rat that wronged his family was out of sight, Ron's anger bled away as if it had never been. He shook his head and the murderous glint left his eyes. He met the gaze of his head-of-house and the headmaster in turn. "Was there anything else you needed, Professors?"

Albus shook his head, "No, Ronald. I do apologize for any undue stress this may have caused you. You can expect Hogwarts to replace your 'pet' in the near future. I assume you will not want another rat?"

Ron shook his head. "No, sir. I think one rat per lifetime is enough."

"When you decide what sort of animal you would prefer, within reason, of course, let Professor McGonagall know."

"Yes, sir." Ron turned to leave.

"Weasley?" Snape called after the Gryffindor.

"Sir?"

"It would be best not to discuss this until such time as it becomes public knowledge."

"Yes, sir." Ron left the office to go watch the sunset from the Astronomy Tower.

"That could have gone worse," Minerva observed.

"What do we do with him now?" Remus asked.

The headmaster stroked his beard. "I believe it's time for veritaserum to be brought into the Black investigation, don't you? I know Pettigrew never had a talent for occlumency before he disappeared. I highly doubt he was able to develop that talent in the intervening years."

Snape reached into a hidden pocket of his robe and withdrew a tiny crystal vial. Remus cocked his head towards Severus. "Do you always carry truth serum with you?"

"Of course. Don't you?"

* * *

In a cruel, cruel twist of fate, Sirius Black was better known to the human guards of Azkaban as Prisoner No. 24601. The irony of this particular number was lost on Sirius, however. It was nearing his sixteenth anniversary in the dreary wizarding prison. Only one other inmate in history had lived as long within the stone walls and alongside the dementors' chill, and that had been nearly three hundred years earlier. _That_ particular inmate had been completely insane _before_ going to the wizarding prison, so he hardly counted.

Despite the proximity of the dementors, Sirius _was_ still sane. This alone caused the human guards food for thought and food was the human guards' primary concern. That was really all they were there for; to make sure that each living inmate received their daily rations of food and water. Their secondary purpose was a bit more sinister, but no less necessary; they removed the bodies of those inmates that died whilst within the prison walls. Had the human guards visited Black's cell more often than the once per day it took to deliver the rations and make sure he still breathed, they would have seen Sirius' secret to successfully remaining sane. Instead of a battered, half-starved scarecrow of a man wearing tatters and rags, they would have seen a battered, half-starved scarecrow of a dog whose coat was tangled and matted and falling out in places. While in his animagus form, the chill of the dementors pressing upon his soul was not near so harsh; the purely physical chill and perpetual damp made marginally bearable by thick fur; the nightmares toned down to simple primary emotions and colors.

Yes, Sirius' escape from the prison drear was primarily due to his ability to shift his form at will. He did have one other reason, though; a reason that kept the dementors from sweeping in during those rare moments when he wasn't in dog form for whatever reason. He knew he was innocent of the crimes he was imprisoned for. Not a happy thought, really, but one that gave him purpose. A reason to keep living when so many others in similar circumstances would have given up and let the dementors or the damp take them and end their suffering.

So, you can imagine his shock when, about three hours after a guard deposited his rations in his windowless cell, Sirius' enhanced canine hearing picked up the sound of footsteps and voices heading his way. Though not completely unheard of, visitors to the prison were rare enough that it was likely a complete head-count would occur after the visitor left. With a doggy sigh, Sirius shifted back into his human form and immediately wished he hadn't. The late October cold of the remote island seemed to attack his hands and feet as though trying to win a battle. He shivered and curled into a tighter ball, as close to the inner wall as possible. The outer wall would be colder by nearly twenty degrees.

He didn't even notice when the footfalls stopped just outside his cell, at least, not until a gruff voice snapped his attention to the corridor just beyond the bars. "Prisoner Number 24601, sir. Black – comma – Sirius. Date of arrest, November 1, 1981. Date of incarceration, November 2, 1981. No trial date given. Signed by then-Minister Bagnold – comma – Millicent. Don't know what sort of shape he's in, sir, but rumors say he's sane as you or me."

Sirius swallowed a mouthful of the brackish water from the bucket near the bars. "Rumor would be right." His voice sounded like a rusty motor, filled with sand and gravel. It had literally been years since Sirius had said anything. Sirius almost laughed at the look on the guard's face when he spoke. The man looked like someone had just poured a vial of freezing potion into his shorts.

"That is most fortuitous news, indeed, Mr. Black."

Sirius' eyes darted to his visitor. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Perhaps I'm not as sane as I assumed. I could swear I'm looking at Albus Dumbledore."

"No doubt to the accuracy of your first statement, Sirius, I find one a rather inaccurate assessor of one's own mental state. However, unless I'm much mistaken, I _am_ Albus Dumbledore, and I come bearing glad tidings."

Sirius scoffed. "What tidings? There's no such thing as good news, and hasn't been for the better part of two decades now." Some of the rustiness of his voice was fading with use. He took another drink of water.

Albus smiled sadly at the man in the cell. "You've been freed, Sirius. Peter was captured a mere three nights ago. He had been posing as a family's pet rat. You're a free man, Mr. Black. I hold here a full pardon, signed by the whole of the Wizengamot, as well as a bank draft for wrongful imprisonment for well over a million galleons per year you were imprisoned. All you need to do is walk out of here with me."

For the first time in sixteen long years, Sirius finally felt something that had been missing from his life. He felt hope.

* * *

**A/N2:** That's all I really feel _should _be included in this chapter. I wrote it and feel drained; I reread it to correct punctuation and formatting, and feel even more drained. Much more in the way of emotion in this chapter would have cheapened it. Do remember what I said before about short chapters, though. There's a better-than-average chance another chapter of a similar length will be up tomorrow. If I get lucky with the muse running this tale, it may even be a pleasantly long chapter.

In the meantime, remember to lemme know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own HP&Co.

**A/N:** Well, yeah. So I was really bored yesterday, and the muse was talking and the computer was working, and I couldn't resist the chapters. I also like to think I was making up for that several-day-long stretch when I was completely unable to update. Oh, in the last chapter I reference Les Mis, and I should probably state that I've never been affiliated with that tale, either; aside from loving the story, that is. A lot of people asked about the irony of Sirius' prisoner number, it's from Les Mis; Jean Valjean's prisoner number was 24601.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: A Bit of This, A Bit of That  
**

The first few days of November were rather odd. At least, insofar as Harry saw. Remus was acting weird, but wouldn't say anything about what was on his mind. Harry shrugged it off, thinking that if it continued for much longer, he'd set Remus down and _demand_ an explanation.

Despite Remus' distraction, he continued training Harry in magic at a frantic pace. The concentration charm Hermione showed Harry was put to good use as Remus progressed into more and more difficult magics. Harry managed to finish out the curriculum for transfiguration, charms, DADA, history of magic, and herbology – though there weren't any magical plants nearby, illusions showed Harry what they looked like and with a combination of his experience tending the Dursleys' garden and the books on the subject, both Harry and Remus felt confident that Harry would be able to pass _that_ OWL without too much difficulty.

The only subjects Harry had yet to delve into in any detail were ancient runes, arithmancy, and potions. The very three subjects that Remus felt he was under-qualified to teach. With arithmancy, Harry scanned through a couple of texts on the topic and found that it was a combination of algebra, chemistry and physics, as the topics pertained to magic and magical theory. Harry decided to work through the topic on his own, as the muggle equivalents of the class were all topics he was good at. He sent the smaller exercises in the book to Hermione by owl, and when she confirmed he was doing things correctly, he attempted the intermediate and harder levels, sending the work to Hermione to be checked by Professor Vector at Hogwarts. The professor, likewise, verified that Harry was doing well in the class.

In looking through the runes text, Harry realized he had seen this topic before. It took him a day or two to recall that he had once read about runes a couple of years earlier, for an extra-credit project for history. The muggle notion that runes were used primarily as written language was correct, but incomplete. Had Harry ever had an interest in the art of divination, he would have likely found that runes were used as a fortune-telling tool, with each symbol representing something else. The meanings of the runes were the same in wizardry; however they weren't used as fortune-telling devices. They were used to create new spells, more powerful potions, and to imbue objects with a permanent magic. Harry noticed that in studying runes and arithmancy, his understanding of magical theory was enhanced exponentially.

On November fourth, Jennifer pulled Harry into the office. "What's going on, Jenn?"

"Come here and let me know if this was what you had in mind." Jennifer sat him down in the chair and indicated that he should open the icon on the desktop that looked like a little cauldron.

"It's done?" Harry asked while double-clicking on the icon.

"Possibly. It needs to be run a bit to isolate any bugs in the system. It went a bit faster than I had anticipated because I was able to scout out a couple of freeware programs that existed already for chemistry and cooking and one for database integration. I simply combined them and added a few graphics to make it interesting. That company that transcribed the book into digital format had it done in a week. Don't thank me until you get the bill… Their expedited services aren't cheap."

Harry listened while he watched a bit of animation as the software loaded. A cartoon cauldron landed with a clang over a flame and a menu of options appeared on its side. _Brew Something_, _Browse Ingredients and Practices_, _Study Guide_, _Test Yourself_, _What About This?_, _Existing Recipes_, and _Exit_. "Care to explain the options? I think I know what 'Existing Recipes' and 'Exit' mean. What about the rest?"

"Sure. The 'browse' option is a link into the Compendium's list of ingredients and methods of brewing, the 'recipes' option is the list of complete potions found in the Compendium. The 'study guide' is broken down into levels of difficulty, same with the 'test' option. The 'brew' option gives you a list of ingredients and methods and will tell you what happens if you combine your choices. The 'what about' option will allow you to select an existing potion and make alterations to it. Both the 'brew' and 'what' selections will also give you a statistical breakdown of possible success."

"Wow. You did all this by combining a chemistry and a cooking program?"

"And piggybacking it on an extensive database."

"Cool." Harry dove into the program after quickly casting the concentration charm on himself. After six hours of exploring the program, he reported back to Jennifer that the only bugs he was able to locate were that the entries from Kn-Ku under the 'browse' heading wouldn't pull up, and when putting together an existing potion under the 'brew' option, the animation of the cauldron got stuck in a loop. Jennifer promised to have the bugs ironed out in the next few days.

* * *

_November 5, 1997_

_Dear Hermione,_

_It's done! It's done! It's done!_

_Jennifer managed to get a working alpha copy of that potions program up and running! There are still a few bugs that need working out, but from what I've seen so far, it seems to be precisely what I wanted. Now all we need to do is figure out a way to bring computers into the wizarding world. Any ideas?_

_I know that electricity doesn't work reliably in magic-heavy areas… Why? It doesn't seem like there should be that much of a difference between the two… Are there no magical appliances? Radios? I have a feeling that if there are, we only need to examine how they work to find out how to get a computer up and running._

_In any case, I need to get going. I have class in about a half an hour. _

_See you on the thirteenth!_

_Harry_

* * *

_November 6, 1997_

_Dear Harry,_

_That's wonderful news! I'll have to come over during Christmas hols to take a look at it._

_We do have radios; they're called Wizarding Wireless sets. I admit I hadn't given a thought to how they work until you asked about them in your letter. I'll see what I can find in my spare time. If I find anything important, I'll owl you._

_See you next Thursday._

_Hermione_

* * *

Sirius looked up at the sky again. It was a sight denied him for nearly sixteen years, and something he had never thought to see again in his lifetime. He was sitting in the garden of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London. A house he had left as a teenager, vowing never to return to, _Which goes to prove that even the most passionate of words must be eaten from time to time._

A week of freedom. A week spent wondering when he was going to awaken to the dementors' chill. A week having to remind himself that he never had to go back. A very long, stressful, and lonely week.

He spent the first night of his freedom in a private corner of Hogwarts' hospital wing while Madam Pomfrey assessed his physical health. For all that he spent almost half his lifetime in surroundings that didn't lend themselves to health; there was little wrong with him in the physical sense; malnourishment and a suppressed case of pneumonia. The pneumonia was cured with a couple of potions. The malnourishment would have to be battled the hard way; exercise, vitamins, and as large of meals as he could stomach.

He spent a solid six hours soaking in a bathtub that first night, as well. The water had to be changed out five times for him to be truly clean. Poppy cut his tangled mass of hair, which had hung nearly to his knees, off just above his shoulders and for the first time since the morning of Halloween 1981 he was clean-shaven. The image in the mirror didn't match his memory of himself. He was a long way from the mischievous, tanned aristocrat he had been. He thought he looked like a walking skeleton. Waxy white skin stretched tight over cheekbones and his head looked too large for his neck to hold upright. His eyes, sunken as they were, only lent to the illusion of a reanimated corpse. They were ringed by bluish-black smudges, but were still a clear, fathomless grey, unclouded by either insanity or desperation.

Sirius shook himself to bring himself back to the present. "I have to get out of this house. It's not healthy, being here again after so long… Can't say I'm not happy that Mummy Dearest died while I was… away. Maybe I can finally be rid of her fanaticism… Now, there's a thought… I wonder if anyone is crazy enough to want to buy this place?" Sirius talked to himself as he wandered back into the gloomy house that was his birthright.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he saw Dumbledore standing in the hallway. "Good evening, Sirius."

Sirius nodded to the headmaster. "Albus. What can I do for you?"

Dumbledore smiled, "It came to my attention that this place is likely not to be the best location for your recuperation."

Sirius barked a short laugh. "Poppy finally beat that into your skull, did she?"

Albus chuckled, "That she did, my boy."

Sirius escorted Albus to the kitchen. "Can I get you anything?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, thank you. I actually stopped by to let you know that the Ministry purchased a house in Little Whinging a couple of months ago and they no longer have need of it. You are welcome to buy it from them at the same price they purchased it for. It's in a muggle neighborhood, though."

Sirius shrugged, "That doesn't matter to me. Why did the Ministry have need of a house in a muggle area?"

"An extended auror investigation regarding a wizard in the area. The auror in charge of the investigation is actually someone you might know."

Sirius snorted, "Someone still in the corps from when I was? Who? Moody?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, your cousin Nymphadora."

Sirius coughed in surprise. "Little Nymphie? She's an auror? Merlin… The last time I saw her, she was only eight… She's an _auror_?"

Dumbledore laughed. "The one constant in life is that time passes, whether we want it to or not. Even without your time in Azkaban, it is likely you would still be expressing this level of disbelief from time to time."

Sirius shivered and decided to ignore his shock for the time being. "You said the house is in Little Whinging?" Dumbledore nodded. "That's fine with me. I just don't want to be _here_ any longer than I have to."

"Completely understandable. Should I let the Ministry know they've a buyer?"

Sirius nodded. "What's the address? Do you know if Nymphie is still there?"

"It's six, Wisteria Walk, and no. Nymphadora left shortly after her investigation was complete."

"That's too bad. I would have liked to catch up with her."

"I'm sure there will be time enough in the future."

Sirius nodded, "Now that I _have_ a future."

* * *

**Sirius Black Innocent!**

_By Rita Skeeter – special correspondent_

The Ministry of Magic made a shocking announcement this morning. Minister Fudge called a press-conference, and stated "It has come to the attention of this administration that a gross miscarriage of justice was perpetrated upon an innocent wizard sixteen years ago." He went on to explain that evidence has surfaced proving Black to be innocent of murder charges that sent him to Azkaban on November 2, 1981.

Ron sighed and handed the paper to Seamus. "This is what Dumbledore wanted Scabbers for. I wasn't allowed to talk about it until it became public knowledge, but Scabbers was actually Pettigrew in his animagus form."

Hermione read the article over Seamus' shoulder. "Wow, Ron. You should tell Harry about this."

"Why?"

"I thought everyone knew – Sirius Black is Harry's godfather. It says so in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

Ron nodded, "You said he's coming up next week for the quidditch match, right? I'll talk to him then. In the mean time, though, since I lost my 'pet rat,' Dumbledore said the school would buy me a replacement pet. What should I get? I was thinking an owl, but a kneazle like Crookshanks could be useful, too."

Seamus, Hermione, and Ron discussed the issue while continuing on their way to Charms.

* * *

"Please stay after class, Harry."

Harry nodded as he cleaned up his brushes in Mr. Thatcher's advanced two-dimensional art class. He was just putting the painting he was working on to the side of the class so it could finish drying when Mr. Thatcher snuck up behind him. "You've progressed more this year than you did last year."

Harry jumped and spun around, "Sorry, Mr. Thatcher. I didn't hear you come up behind me. You were saying?"

"I was just noticing that, compared to last year, you are progressing much faster in your technique this year." He nodded towards the canvas.

Harry shrugged, "I was able to paint a bit over the summer."

"And you didn't the year before?"

Harry shook his head. "Before, I was living with my aunt and uncle. Now, I'm not. It makes a world of difference in more areas of my life than just my art."

Thatcher nodded again, this time meeting Harry's gaze. He was a very tall man, and also very skinny. His straw-colored hair was perpetually pulled into a ponytail and he always had on clothes that had ink, clay, or paint stains on them. "I had an interesting conversation with an investigator this summer. About you and your family, in fact."

Harry laughed. "You and almost everyone else in the neighborhood or that ever met me."

"Did everything turn out well?"

Harry shrugged, "That remains to be seen. Though the investigation is over with, no one's been charged, yet. I think it's mostly my fault. I don't know if I want to ruin the lives of my last remaining family, but I also know I don't want to go back to them."

Thatcher sighed, "I hope you will forgive me, that I didn't see what was going on."

"Not your fault, Mr. Thatcher. I didn't want people to know, and most folks are more than happy just to see what I wanted them to."

"True. Disappointing, but true. Let me know how it all turns out, will you?"

Harry nodded, "Of course. You've done more for me in the last few years than the Dursleys ever did. I think I can spare a bit of my time to make sure all that effort hasn't gone to waste."

"Good." He smiled at Harry. "Now, where did I put those hall-passes?" He rummaged around on his desk for the pass that would excuse Harry from being late to his next class.

* * *

**A/N2:** There y'all go, a little bit of everyone. What pet should Ron go for? Owl? Kneazle? Or something else entirely?

Sorry that it's not quite as long as the first few chapters, but my muse wasn't being all that cooperative today. I'm going to be a little busy this week, so you might not see another update until after Friday, but, with luck, it will be nice and long. Or cover a bit more plot.

I need reviews like I need air to breathe and water to drink.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** Consider it disclaimed.

**A/N:** When I noticed I had broken 200 reviews, I somehow got the song "How Sweet it is (to be Loved by You)" stuck in my head. You are all so wonderful and if I could, I would mail you cookies and cakes and all sorts of yummy goodness, but alas, I cannot. Just remember that you're appreciated (even those of you who read, but don't review. I just like knowing you all are reading the story.)

And now for the scene you all have been yearning for!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Revelations**

Harry was in school, and it was Remus' day off to attend to whatever errands he needed to get done without having a teenager tagalong. He was taking a walk at approximately eleven in the morning when activity around the house Nymphadora Tonks recently vacated drew his attention.

_Bloody Dumbledore! He knew I wanted a little time to figure out what to say!_ Remus thought when he caught sight of his old friend ferrying packages from a black Ministry car to the front door.

Sirius had just deposited another box just inside the door of the house when he sensed someone watching him out the corner of his eye. He shook his longish hair back and caught sight of a man wearing a worn pair of slacks and a shabby jacket. Though the brown hair was shot through with grey, the other man's amber eyes were still warm. Sirius blinked in disbelief. "R-Remus?"

Remus nodded, "Sirius…"

What he was going to say next was cut off as Sirius tackled his friend in a bear-hug. Remus wasn't sure that Sirius even realized what he was babbling, so, being the logical one, he recommended they adjourn indoors for some tea.

They sat in the kitchen for several minutes, sipping freshly conjured tea, before Sirius finally spoke. "I don't blame you, Remus."

Remus coughed. "What?"

"I'm just saying, if I had been in your shoes, I wouldn't have believed me, either. I mean, who would have thought Peter would have it in him?" Sirius chuckled a little, though it was void of cheer, "It was mostly my fault that it all happened, anyway. If I had done the Gryffindor thing and been James' keeper – and you have no idea how funny that is to think about, now – then none of this would have happened."

Remus shook his head, "I… I didn't know what to believe. I wasn't even in the country at the time, and when I got back, I learned that three of my friends were dead, and you were in prison… It… It took me a long time to try to put it behind me. I can't say I got over it, because I never did, but it took me a long, long time to become functional again." Remus swallowed the tears that threatened to escape.

"But, now you know the truth. Maybe we can both get over it."

Remus smiled, "You're 'innocent.' Anything is possible."

"I take it, since you were wandering in the neighborhood, you live around here?"

Remus nodded, not sure if he should bring Harry into the conversation or wait for Sirius to ask about him.

"Guess that's why Dumbledore pointed me this direction when the house on Grimmauld started creeping me out."

Remus decided talking about Harry might remove some of the awkwardness of the conversation. "That could be, though I think it might have more to do with one of the people I'm staying with."

"Oh? Who would that be?" Sirius drained the last of his tea.

"Harry."

Telling that to Sirius while the man was in the middle of drinking something was probably not the smartest thing Remus had ever done, as he was now wearing the majority of the tea and the cup was in shards on the floor. "Harry?" Sirius asked, dazed. "As in James and Lily's son?"

Remus scowled at Sirius and used his wand to dry himself off, "Of course James and Lily's Harry. How many other 'Harrys' do you know?"

"Merlin… He's what? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen then." Sirius made a dismissing motion with his hand. "What's he like? Does he like quidditch? He's a Gryffindor, right? How's he doing in school? Who was he left with after…?"

Remus held his had up to forestall the deluge of questions. "Firstly, he was left with Lily's sister and her family. His aunt didn't let him go to Hogwarts, so he wasn't sorted, however I suspect he would be a Ravenclaw. He's still going to his muggle school – I couldn't talk him out of it, he says he'll need it to go to uni – and he's doing well. I'm tutoring him in what I can insofar as his magical education is concerned, and he's scarily quick with it. Last, and I'm sure you'd hurt me if I thought it was least, he's never seen quidditch, so I don't know if he'll like it or not. I have explained the game to him a couple of times, but he keeps telling me that he's sure it will make more sense if he can watch it. To that end, we will be visiting Hogwarts next week to watch the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match."

"Why didn't he go to Hogwarts and why do you think he wouldn't be a Gryffindor?"

Remus sighed, "It's rather a long story, and I don't know how much of it I'm allowed to talk about, but the short of it is that Lily's sister doesn't approve of magic, and since she's the boy's legal guardian, he didn't go. As to his potential house… Well, like I said, he's scarily quick in learning magic, not to mention he's doing very well with his muggle studies, as well, hence – Ravenclaw."

Sirius leaned down to gather the shards of the teacup, "When do I get to meet him?"

Remus shrugged, "He should be home around eight this evening. He's got an after-school job."

"Why don't the two of you come by for a late dinner?"

Remus quirked an eyebrow at Sirius. "Since when do you cook?"

Sirius laughed, "Since never! I figured I'd grab some sandwiches or something from the market. Either that or ring up Molly Weasley… She always had food to spare for a hungry auror, and now that I've been exonerated, I'm sure she would again."

"Go for the sandwich idea for now. There's a market just a couple of blocks over that way," Remus pointed.

"Do you know what happened to my bike? The car's just on loan for today." Sirius asked, changing the subject.

Remus thought for a bit, "I'm not sure, but I think Hagrid was the last one to have it… You might want to ask him. Oh, talking of asking people things, do you know if the floo here is hooked up? I know Tonks was staying here for a bit…"

Sirius nodded, "Yeah, it's hooked up. Why?"

Remus shrugged again, "Because it's a right pain to have to go all the way into London every time I need to go to Diagon Alley; and you _know_ I can't apparate to Hogsmeade from this far south!"

The two old friends spent the remainder of the day getting caught up with each other, though Remus felt as though he had the harder job, having to also answer questions about Harry.

* * *

While Sirius and Remus were getting reacquainted, Harry was talking to his physics instructor during his free period. Rather, he was waiting for his physics instructor to return to the class so Harry could ask the man a question pertaining to the transformation of energy from one form to another.

Harry had been waiting for ten minutes when he noticed some soft singing in the back of the classroom. He brushed it off as a radio with the volume turned low until the voice that was singing an old Beatles song suddenly stopped and asked itself, "Now, what was the next lyric? Damn… I knew I should have bit him when he brought me here, how am I supposed to keep on top of the goings on in the world when the only thing I can hear now are a bunch of kids gossiping about who's the cutest of them all?"

"Hello?" Harry called out, "Is there someone there?"

"Who's that? Someone's actually _talking to me_!" There was some breathy laughter, "I could faint!"

"Where are you?"

"Over here, in the glass box."

Harry wandered towards the voice. "Glass box? Are you alright?"

"Ooh, you're asking about my health? What a sweetie… Over here, yeah. Right here."

Harry blinked at the terrarium in the back of the class. A couple of weeks earlier, his physics teacher had brought in an albino ball python and declared it to be the class pet. Most of the girls in the class seemed a bit upset at the news, while the guys were scuffling over who got to hold the snake first. Harry had been working on his project, and so had ignored the whole incident. He was now wishing he hadn't. "You… you're a snake?"

"You're a few cards short of a deck, aren't you? Of course I'm a snake. You say that like it's surprising. Who did you think you were talking to? A turtle? Sorry, they're not that great of conversationalists."

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. "Somehow, I can believe that."

The snake sniffed, "Of course you can. What's your name, leggy?"

"Harry. What's yours?"

"You weren't paying attention last week, were you? The man calls me 'Angel.' However, I don't think that fits. Firstly, though I _am _gorgeous, I don't have wings. Secondly, 'Angel' is a female name. I am most definitely _not a girl_!"

Harry snickered. _This snake is funnier than most people I know. I have to wonder if this is one of those magic-things… Didn't I once talk to a snake at the zoo? I think I did... It would have been Dudley's birthday… Heh… Wonder if Angel, here, would be amenable to terrorizing Dudikins?_ Out loud, Harry asked, "What would you prefer I call you?"

"Julius."

"As in Caesar?"

"Precisely."

"You have issues, don't you?"

"I do not. I have _ambitions_. Not _issues_. '_Issues' _implies that I need to seek counseling, which I most certainly do _not_ need!"

"Harry? What can I do for you?" The physics instructor asked from the doorway.

Harry jumped and spun around. "Mr. Eindelberg! You startled me. I had a question for you about the conversion of energy from one form to another."

"Like electricity to heat?"

Harry nodded, but Angel sighed dramatically, "Another geek. Just my luck that the first person to talk to me happens to share an unfortunate fascination with idiocy." With that, the snake launched into a rendition of Simon and Garfunkel's 'Feeling Groovy.' Harry found it more than a little difficult to finish his discussion with his physics teacher.

* * *

Despite Crookshanks' cranky nature, and that incident in their third year when the cat tried to eat Scabbers, Ron figured that a kneazle or kneazle-cross would be the best pet for him. He had seriously thought about getting an owl, but he didn't see the need while still in school. If he needed to send post, he could always use one of the school owls, or borrow Jupiter, Seamus' owl. Looking back on when Crookshanks had attempted to kill his rat, Ron now realized that the kneazle-cross had sensed that the rat was less than trustworthy. If he could get a full kneazle, then that particular ability would be stronger. It never hurt to be a bit on the cautious side; life was a chess game, after all.

So, on the afternoon that Remus and Sirius were catching up and Harry was proving to be rather entertaining to a certain albino ball python, Ron approached Professor McGonagall's office after the last class of the day.

Minerva opened the door with a smile, "Mr. Weasley. How can I assist you?"

"I decided, ma'am."

"On what, pray tell, have you decided?" The professor motioned for her student to enter and have a seat.

"A kneazle or cross. I know full kneazles are rather expensive and all…"

"Nonsense, Mr. Weasley," she offered him a tin of ginger newts. "The headmaster and I both realize having to deal with not only the loss of your pet, but the knowledge that he never really was a rat is more than your peers have to deal with; likely more than they'll _ever_ have to deal with."

Ron accepted one of the sweets, "Even so, Professor, kneazle kittens are really expensive… I honestly would be happy with a cross, so long as it's nicer than Crookshanks."

"Ah, Miss Granger's familiar. He is a bit on the brutal side, isn't he?" Minerva took a newt for herself and re-sealed the tin. She nibbled on the biscuit for a moment, thinking. "Actually, I think we just might be able to locate a kneazle for you, Mr. Weasley. I believe a cousin of mine raises them… He owes me a favor or two that he would happily pay off with a kitten."

Ron grinned, "Really?"

"Most certainly, Mr. Weasley. Now, I believe you've quidditch practice in an hour. I'll go ahead and speak with the headmaster for you."

"Thanks," Ron said, smiling wide enough to make his cheeks hurt.

"Don't mention it, Ronald." She made a shooing motion with her hands, "Run along, now. It wouldn't do to lose the match with Ravenclaw next week!"

"No, ma'am!" Ron hurried from the office.

* * *

_November 7, 1997_

_Dear Hermione,_

_You will _never_ guess who I met tonight! I met my godfather. His name's Sirius Black, and the reason he didn't raise me when my parents died was because he had been framed for murder and has spent the last sixteen years in prison! Isn't that nearly unbelievable? He said that the man that framed him was caught a couple of weeks ago, posing as someone's pet rat. Did you know people can study to turn into animals? If you did know, why didn't you tell me? That is so cool… Have you looked into it at all? If so, do you have a book recommendation for me? Sirius can turn into a big, black dog. Apparently, my Dad could transform into a deer. I was kinda hoping I'd be able to do something like that._

_Anyway, I got to meet him because he moved into the house down the street where Tonks was staying while investigating the Dursleys. Remus found him while I was at school. When I got home from work, Jenn told me where Remus was and insisted that I join him if I wanted dinner. I think she got to talk to both Remus and Sirius while I was still at school. Maybe while I was at work… who knows? In any case, Sirius is a really nice guy. A bit like Ron in that he's totally quidditch-mad, so I will really have to pay attention to that game next week. He also had moments where his eyes glazed over and he looked like he might have thought he was dreaming. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but I don't really know him that well just yet. I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in his own home._

_Aside from meeting Sirius, I also managed to get some information from my physics teacher on the transfer of energy from one format to another. He recommended a couple of books that I'll be ordering from Borders. I have an idea, but I need to see if it's remotely possible, first. I think you know what I want to do… If you don't, let's just say that I want to be able to have everyone, regardless of their location, to be able to use that potions program Jenn came up with._

_While I was waiting for the teacher to show up, I also had an interesting interlude with Angel, the class pet. He's a ball-python and seems to think he's Julius Caesar. He's right funny though. Knows songs by the Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel._

_Well, I really should be getting to sleep soon, it's almost two in the morning and I have to work tomorrow._

_See you next Thursday,_

_Harry_

* * *

_November 8, 1997_

_Dear Harry,_

_You met Sirius Black? How remarkable. I know a bit more of the story than you told in your letter, though. That man that was posing as a rat? Yeah, he was posing as Ron's pet! I got the full story from Ron just a few days ago. You'll have to have him tell it to you after the game next week._

_So you're trying to figure out how to convert magical energy into electricity, are you? Well, it can be done, and is done all the time by a Wizarding Wireless set. That's what the additional pages are, the schematics for a wireless. Though I think having modern technology available would be fantastic, I also have to point out that the wizarding world might not be ready for something so drastic. Your average witch or wizard lives to be approximately twice the age of a muggle. This puts the mindset of the general public at around the late Victorian era. If you're successful at this, then you might want to limit its exposure to only the younger sect, or those that have a vested interest in it. Oh, bother. I just re-read over that sentence, and even _I _don't know quite what I was saying there. I guess I just want you to be careful with it, if you can even get it to work. We both know how useful it is, but it's something new, and newness, as a rule, usually isn't highly appreciated._

_Now, when you say that you had an interlude with a snake, what, _exactly_, do you mean? Spare no details, this could be important._

_See you soon,_

_Hermione_

* * *

It was Sunday. Harry was currently engaged in a twisted game of hide-and-seek in the Kellerman house. The sofa in the den had been deemed 'base,' but Harry was currently trying to figure out how to get from the closet in Remus' room to base without alerting his opponents to his location. Sirius and Remus were also playing, and had set minor magical traps all through the house. Harry's mission was to make it to the sofa. Remus and Sirius would win if Harry was caught by either of them or any of the traps. His first challenge was the colorspray charm on the closet door. He couldn't remember the incantation to neutralize the charm and as such, was stuck.

"_Finite_!"

Nothing happened.

"_Color-erasure_!"

The blue paint faded to white.

"Damn it." Harry ran a hand through his hair. At this rate, Sirius and Remus would win before the game was hardly begun.

"_Incantatus invertium_!"

The door flared gold for a moment before fading back to its original blue. "_Revelus._" The spot on the door, just under the latch, failed to glow. "Yes!" Harry hissed in excitement. He had managed to remove the charm. Now, knowing his tutor as he did, he would have to be doubly careful in stepping out of the closet. Another _revelus_ showed the area immediately surrounding the door was safe from charms, hexes, jinx, and other surprises. Casting the all-purpose revealing charm every few feet, Harry slowly progressed to the door.

Downstairs, Sirius leaned to Remus' ear and whispered, "Hey, Remus."

"What, Sirius?"

"I have an idea."

"Four of the most terrifying words in the English language."

"Ha-ha-bloody-ha. Do you want to hear it or not?"

Remus leaned against the kitchen doorframe, "Why not?"

"Harry's likely to be relying solely on magic to try to get to the den, right?"

"So?"

"So… Does Jennifer have a bucket? We never said the traps would be _all_ magic-based."

Remus chuckled quietly, "I like the way you think."

While Harry was busy disarming traps in the hallway and otherwise being generally paranoid, Sirius and Remus were busy rigging the door to the den with an old, old muggle practical joke.

"Think it's time to go 'look' for him?"

"Yeah, he should be out of the closet by now," Remus replied.

In the epic battle that followed, Harry managed to disarm Sirius in twenty seconds. He ducked past Remus and leapt over the banister of the stairs to avoid another trap. A _stupefy_ narrowly missed his ear as he rolled across the floor to absorb his fall. "Ha! You'll never catch me!"

"Never say never!" Sirius shouted back, wand in hand once more.

"I'm home free, you two!"

"Don't count on it!" Remus said.

Harry grinned and turned so he could face both his companions and the hallway to the den. He cast the revealing charm on the hall and found it to be clear of traps. He backed down the hallway, never taking his eyes from either his tutor or his godfather. He reached the door to the den without incident and had to focus on the door for a moment. In the second or so it took him to verify the door was not trapped, Sirius had managed to get caught in his own trap on the stairs and Remus had followed Harry's example by leaping over the railing. He was standing at the entrance to the hall when Harry brought his wand back up. "You didn't think to trap the door?" He tsk'd, "I thought you two wanted to win."

"Don't get over confident, Harry, you're not on base, yet." Remus warned. His inner wolf _really_ liked these games.

Harry sighed, "It's only a matter of opening the door and jumping the six feet or so to the sofa. I know you're quick, Remus, but you're not _that_ quick."

"Try me and see."

Sirius had managed to free himself from the quicksand stair and arrived at his friend's side, wand leveled at Harry. He really didn't want to miss this.

Harry shook his head and opened the door, but didn't go in just yet. The bucket that had been placed above the door jam fell to the floor with a splash. Harry sighed, "Really. Like I hadn't expected something like that, guys. Dudley used to do stuff like that all the time." Without warning, Harry leapt through the open door and landed lightly on the sofa. "Safe!"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look that seemed to communicate that they agreed – Harry was definitely a junior Marauder in the making.

* * *

**A/N2:** Now, I already know where the Sorting Hat would have put this version of Harry but I am curious as to which dorm you think he's most like (you can blame the future scene on my friend, Jenn; she wanted to see some interaction with the Hat.) Also, does anyone else think the Hat might have a touch of precognition? Or that a talking hat is really, _really_ creepy; especially one that can read your mind?

I'm a little insecure about the parseltongue segment, the one with Angel. Did you all like it, or was it a bit too much? BTW, Angel is based on a combination of my nephew's pet snake – an eighteen-inch ball python – and the class pet from my own physics class – an albino rat snake called Soriah. It wasn't as cool as the class pet the year before, though. In my chemistry class, we had a baby alligator called Lucille. Yeah, my teachers were all a bit nuts.

Review, please. I really could use the reassurance. I left my blankie at home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** Mine, sir? No, not mine, sir, but twere it mine, thou wouldst be the first to know.

**A/N:** As always, I must lament the inability of the modern internet to allow for dispensation of baked goods. Alas, tis something for science to work towards. You should all have some cake on me. With ice cream, if you're not lactose-intolerant.

Ok, herein you will see the first glimpse of our primary bad guy – outside of Voldemort, of course – as well as some Harry/Draco interaction, a peek into the mind of Snape, a tiny bit of quidditch – mainly because I suck at writing sports-related stuff – and a major confrontational scene between Dumbledore and Harry.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: A Bit of There and Here**

She knew he was still alive. His mark, though faded, was not gone. If she could concentrate, she could still feel the familiar tingle of her master's magic through it. It was this observation during the second year of her imprisonment that allowed her to keep what little sanity remained in her possession. She still raved, but it was a _calculated _raving, designed to lull the guards into believing she, too, had succumbed to the dementors' chill.

She had worked, daily, ever since feeling that distant tingle that let her know her lord and master still lived. On the day she saw her cousin escorted past her cell by Dumbledore, she redoubled her efforts. It wouldn't be long now, and she would be free to rejoin Lord Voldemort.

It was amazing what a basic understanding of physics could do. She knew that applied application of force over time led to erosion. Time was something she had in spades, though a spade she had not. She could be patient. More than a decade of patience and application of force and time. She hadn't spared a thought to her husband – he didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, only her master mattered.

She _would_ escape. She _would_ rejoin her lord. She _would _be rewarded beyond her wildest imaginings.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

The much-anticipated date of Thursday, November 13 arrived. Harry had already informed his teachers at Stonewall he wouldn't be attending today, and so had already done his assignments for the day. He and Remus met up with Sirius and the trio used Sirius' floo to arrive at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. After a brief chat with Rosmerta over some oat porridge, the three meandered their way up to the castle. Remus had to speak with Dumbledore, Sirius tagging along, and Harry wanted to hunt down Snape to explain in more detail the potions program. He was really hoping that he would be able to get the potions master to visit and see the program in person; it would be wonderful to have a professional make sure the information in the program was completely accurate.

Dumbledore met the three in the entrance hall, and escorted Sirius and Remus to wherever they were going after explaining to Harry where to locate Professor Snape. Harry was also informed that the professor had no classes today, as all double-lessons had been cancelled to make time for the upcoming match.

Following the twisting corridors through the castle, it took Harry a bit longer than he had anticipated to locate the dungeons, and once there, he could have sworn he'd walked past the same statue three times, but wasn't absolutely certain. Just when he was wondering if he had to resign himself to wandering the confusing hallways for the rest of his life, a drawling voice caught his attention. "Who do we have here?"

Harry whirled around to see a blonde teen step out of the shadows. He was a good six inches taller than Harry, and had a sneer plastered across an aristocratically pointed face. He was wearing the robes of a student, and had his arms crossed over his chest. There was a hard glint in his eyes that Harry didn't like in the least. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the release on his wand-holster engaged and his wand fell into his hand. He held it so that the other boy would be unable to see it. "I'm looking for Professor Snape. Do you know where I can find him?"

"In his office, no doubt," Harry was beginning to wonder if the kid did anything but sneer.

He sighed, "Obviously. Where do I find his office?"

"What's in it for me if I tell you?"

Harry shook his head, "Forget it. I'll locate it on my own. You can scuttle off to wherever it was you slunk out of."

Anger flashed across the other boy's face and his wand was out in a flash. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten in his head. He hated people like this. "If you think you're intimidating, let me be the first to tell you – you aren't. From this short meeting, I know enough about you to know that I no longer wish to be in your company. Now, put the wand away and go."

The blonde laughed coldly, "And just what are you going to do if I don't?"

While he had been talking, Harry had finished removing his wand from his sleeve. He aimed it at the blonde and sighed, "I guess you just have to be the agent of karma every now and then," he said to himself. "_Stupefy_." The jet of red light collided with the blonde's chest and he crumpled, unconscious, to the floor. "_Mobilicorpus._" With the blonde floating a few feet behind him, like some macabre balloon, Harry continued in his search for the potion master's office.

It wasn't long before he finally, _finally_ managed to locate the office of the potions master. Harry nearly wept with relief. He really had thought he would spend the rest of his life wandering the dungeons of a magic-filled castle. He knocked, and was met with a muted, terse order to "Come in."

Harry opened the door, which didn't squeal, but opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges. Professor Snape sat behind his desk, scowling at a roll of parchment as if the inanimate roll of messy handwriting had done him a personal wrong. "Sir?"

Snape's eyes flickered to the green-eyed enigma in his doorway. "What do you need, Potter?"

Harry smiled, "I had a couple of questions for you, and in trying to locate your office, I had a bit of trouble with one of the students. I thought I remembered Remus saying you were the head of Slytherin, and this, I believe," here Harry stepped fully into the room, directing the blonde teen's floating form to hover over a worn wooden bench across from the teacher's chair, "is one of yours. Unless I confused Slytherin and Ravenclaw's house colors, that is."

Severus mentally banged his forehead on the nearest hard surface, _Lucius is going to be livid…_ Outside his own mind, though, he merely quirked an eyebrow at Draco's unconscious state. "No, you have the right of it. Malfoy is a student of Slytherin house, of which I am the head. May I ask as to his current state?"

Harry blushed and looked at his shoes. Snape failed to catch what the boy said. He asked that Harry repeat himself, "What I said was that when I was looking for you, he rather snuck up behind me. I might have mentioned something he could have misconstrued as insulting, and made to curse me. I merely beat him to the punch." Harry tentatively met Professor Snape's gaze.

Mentally, Snape was roaring with laughter that the arrogant little ponce was out-thought by Ponce Sr.'s sworn enemy; and how _that_ happened is a tale for another time. Needless to say, it appealed to Snape's sarcastic sense of humor. "Very well, Potter. Set him on the bench. I trust your questions won't take long?"

"No, sir, I don't think they will."

In the pause, Snape gave Harry a look that clearly stated "Get on with it, then, so I may stop this useless prattling and get some _work_ done."

Harry cleared his throat and began explaining the program that Jennifer had created.

* * *

The crowd of students, professors, and parents stood, hissing loudly and booing with great vigor. Warrington, one of the Ravenclaw beaters, had just been called on fouling the Gryffindor seeker – a tiny, little mouse of a girl by the name of Stone – when it had been obvious to all and sundry that the seeker had been the one at fault. Despite the apparent blindness of the man who had replaced Hooch as quidditch coach and flying instructor, the penalty stood and Gryffindor was allowed a free shot at the goal, securing another ten points for that team.

"And with that miscarriage of referee work out of the way, Hunter takes the quaffle, Ravenclaw in possession," the voice of the commentator lazily boomed over the crowd.

"What was all the booing for?" Harry asked Remus, who was a bit more sensible about explaining the fouls than Sirius.

"What the ref called was purposeful targeting of something other than a bludger by a beater. What happened was that the seeker wasn't watching what she was doing and got in the way. It was a complete accident, but a penalty was called anyway."

"Oh. What's that the other kid's doing?" Harry pointed to the Ravenclaw seeker.

"Classic scanning pattern; he's looking for the snitch." Sirius said through a mouthful of roasted chestnuts. "He'd do better to tail Stone; she's got a better eye. Spotted the snitch twice, but it got away from her both times."

"Why would he want to follow the other seeker? Wouldn't that put him at a disadvantage?"

Sirius shrugged, "You'd think so, wouldn't you, but – Oh, come on, ref! This isn't a professional match! You _never_ get called for that in a house game!"

Remus sighed and leaned over to Harry's ear, so that the teen could hear him over the angry crowd. "He'd want to follow her because he's a better flyer. If he lets her find where the snitch is, then all he has to do is out-maneuver her to it."

"Oh. This is a bit more complicated than football." Harry snuck a chestnut from the half-crumpled cone Sirius held.

"Gryffindor in possession, nice Hawks' Head formation by chasers Brown, Clarke, and Smythe, quaffle being passed between Clarke and Smythe. Endive cracks a bludger their direction, looks like Mothis and Nguyen are too far away to run interception, luckily Clarke spots the oncoming bludger and breaks formation."

Harry sighed, wondering if maybe he might have had more interest in the sport if he had come across it earlier in life. As it was, he just couldn't dredge up the enthusiasm required to really enjoy sitting outside in forty-degree weather, with snow threatening on the breeze. _It's really just too complicated to really get into. I mean, it doesn't really serve a purpose, does it? Just a bunch of foolhardy kids flying about trying to kill each other over a ruddy ball. Just like football and rugby, only much more dangerous… Though, I do have to admit that flying – without the killer-balls – looks like it could be fun. Wonder if Remus or Sirius will teach me how to fly?_

Harry managed to miss the majority of the match by daydreaming about flying around the countryside on a broom.

When the quidditch game was over – Ravenclaw won, though just barely – Harry, Remus, and Sirius were waylaid by Hermione in trying to exit the stands. She insisted that they should wait for Ron. While waiting, however, Albus Dumbledore noticed them and made his way to the quartet. He did have some things he wished to discuss with Harry. "Good afternoon, Ms. Granger, Sirius, Remus, Harry." He nodded to each of them in turn.

_And who is this and why did he call me 'Harry' like he knows me? Oh, yeah. The headmaster. Why call me 'Harry' and Hermione 'Ms. Granger?' Does he not like her or something? Is it because she's still a student?_ Harry shook his head and brought himself out of his musings in time to hear Dumbledore ask if he could talk with Harry alone.

Harry cast a wary glance at Remus, who nodded. "Um… Okay. I guess. What did you want to talk about?"

Dumbledore motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry saw Remus make a shooing motion with his hands; _He must know what this is about. He _did_ talk to Dumbledore when I was down with Professor Snape._ He nodded and followed the tall man wearing bright green robes trimmed in lemon yellow. Harry wondered idly if the man was _trying_ to blind everyone. Before he realized it, he was standing in front of a gargoyle inside the castle. The headmaster said, "Blood pops," and the statue sprung to life, revealing a stone spiral staircase. Harry found that the stair led to a cluttered office, filled near to bursting with gadgets and gizmos that Harry would bet he'd never find what their purpose was.

"Harry, my boy, please have a seat." Dumbledore motioned to the chair opposite his desk.

Harry hesitantly sat, declining an offered candy in the process. "You said you wanted to speak with me?"

"Ah, yes, Harry. I wanted to know how you have been?"

Harry wrinkled his brow at the query. He wondered why this man cared one way or the other. It wasn't as if Harry knew him. "Frankly, sir, I don't see why that matters."

"Nonsense, of course it matters. There have been so many changes to your life in the past few weeks, I was just curious as to how you were dealing with the changes?"

"No offense, sir, but… What's it to you, what goes on in my life?" Harry was starting to get a little on edge talking to the man. He knew that Remus spoke with him regularly, but Harry had assumed it was regarding his studies. The man _was_ a school official, after all.

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to dim a bit at Harry's question. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in your welfare, young Harry. Myself and many others."

Harry sighed. "This is about that silly prophecy, isn't it?"

"I don't think it silly, my boy, it's –"

"Pardon, sir, but it _is_ silly. I'm destined to fight some random evil guy in order to save the world? Pl-ease. I'm seventeen. I'm still in school. I didn't even know that magic was real until I met Remus. How, exactly, am I supposed to defeat this guy? A man, might I add, that no one has seen in fifteen years. How do you know that he's still a threat?" Harry's nerves were rapidly fraying in the presence of this ancient wizard.

"We have our methods of verifying his existence, Harry," Dumbledore said, slightly disturbed at the youth sitting in front of him. Dumbledore had expected a hero in the making, and had received a cynic.

"And why haven't you finished him off, yourself? Remus keeps telling me how powerful you are." Harry wasn't sure what it was about Dumbledore that seemed to grate along his nerves, but he was rapidly coming to wish he hadn't agreed to the interview.

"Because, Harry, the prophecy clearly indicated _you_ would be the one to defeat him."

Harry shook his head, "I've heard that prophecy, sir, and it's not all that clear. It merely states that 'one with the power to vanquish,' and so on. It _doesn't _state 'the only one with the power.'"

"Harry," Dumbledore sighed, "After interpreting it, it can only be _you_. You are the one fated to face Voldemort."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, he honestly hadn't thought overmuch on the prophecy since hearing it, and now he was forced to do some fast thinking. "Fate, sir? I'm sorry, but I don't really believe in fate. I believe we make our own destinies. The only prophecies that seem to be accurate are self-fulfilled. I'm sure, had you not heard this prophecy, you would be more than willing to finish off Voldie yourself. However, since you _did_ hear the prophecy, then you have trapped yourself into believing that the only one that can defeat him is me: an under-trained, under-sized, teenaged wizard with less knowledge of potions than chemistry, more knowledgeable about physics than charms, and that still thinks most of this magic stuff – though really cool – won't help one iota in the real world."

Dumbledore sadly shook his head, "I hate to disagree with you, my boy, but magic… It _is_ the real world. How I wish your aunt would have allowed you to come to Hogwarts…"

"Hold up. Just what do you know about the Dursleys?" A drop of dread formed in his stomach.

Dumbledore knew he wasn't likely to get around the question. The Harry before him bore little resemblance to the one he had hoped to meet. This one was shrewd, observant, and suspicious. All good traits, to be sure, but they shouldn't be aimed at _him_, for Merlin's sake! He'd only ever done what he thought best for the boy.

"Sir? You haven't answered me."

"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore mentally shook off his musings on expectations versus reality, "I feel I must apologize to you. It was my decision that you be placed with your aunt and uncle when your mother and father passed on."

Something uncoiled and snapped in Harry as he rapidly processed the information. He stood and began pacing, forcing his words through clenched teeth, not trusting himself not to shout, otherwise. _This_ was the man that caused everything. _This_ was the man responsible for the Dursleys. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know you from Adam. What gave you the right to determine with whom I was left? You're only a Headmaster, not even the executor of my parents' wills – Remus had that honor – so, who gave you the right to leave me with those horrid people? Did you even bother checking on them beforehand? Did you know if they were nice people? Didn't you listen to Remus when he returned and _told_ you how much Mum hated her sister?

"Correct me if I am wrong, but weren't there several hours between the deaths of my folks and when I was left with those _bastards_? Why wasn't I given to Sirius at that time? Why did you keep him from me and me from him? Were you threatened by the possibility of the two of us developing a relationship?

"It is entirely your fault why I was left with people who despised me. You should be thanking your lucky stars that I'm as 'normal' as I am. Yes, I'll fight in your petty little squabble, but only because it's the right thing to do, especially since you crippled yourself with that damn prophecy. For everything in my life that is indirectly and directly your fault, however, do not expect me to live in your world. I likewise expect you to keep your meddlesome old nose out of my business. If you have information that I will need to get rid of this moldy-guy then tell me now or send it through Remus. We are not now, nor will we ever be friends. I do not expect to spend social time together, nor do I want to, old man.

"I'll fight because it's my choice, but I'll be damned if I let you control my life like you've controlled others' lives. Don't mistake me for a fool, Dumbledore, I can read between the lines as good as or better than the average person. The only reason Severus Snape works here is because he believes his freedom tied directly to your good will. From what I was able to observe, the man doesn't belong teaching children; he would be happiest in a research laboratory. But you continue keeping him here, even when you've received applicants for the position over the years. And before you ask, I got the information from Remus and checked it through a back-log of newspaper articles. It's rather amusing, how everyone seems to fall over themselves just to help me." He glared at the flabbergasted headmaster before suddenly turning and striding from the room.

He nodded at a gaping Snape, who was standing just outside the doors to the headmaster's office. _And the puzzle that is Potter grows even more…_

* * *

**A/N2:** This will likely be the last update for at least a week. I'm going to somewhere where the internet is somewhat shaky at best. Hopefully it's enough to simultaneously stimulate your need for more and quench that longing for new chapters, at least for a couple of days. 

Review and let me know if I need to fix anything. I've started a list of minor alterations I need to make to the story, mainly correcting Americanisms and that issue with the name in chapter one/two. Let me know if I screwed something up! My beta is also American, so she doesn't catch the Americanisms, either, and the little stuff like the name is easily overlooked by anyone. So, all you hawk-eyed folks out there, if you see a glaring error (keeping in mind that this _is_ AU) then tell me so, and I'll add it to the list. Alternatively, if you liked or didn't like something, feel free to say so. Especially if you didn't like something. If that is the case, then let me know the why of why you don't like that bit and what bit it is.

I think I've rambled enough. Later!


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I really wish it was.

**A/N:** Applause for all my readers! I love all you guys!

This chapter will show some Harry and Snape interaction, some Remus and Dumbledore debating, as well as a couple of letters, and a scene I completely made up concerning a social worker. I've no idea how those types of situations are handled here in the States, let alone in Britain, so I made up something that I felt was plausible.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Nothing Further**

"So… That's it, then?" Harry didn't bother to conceal his disappointment.

"I'm afraid so, cub," Remus ran a hand through his scraggly brown hair. "You've practically sucked all the information I have right out of me. Frankly, I must admit to being a bit astonished at how quickly you've learned all this. It's rather…" Remus trailed off.

"Rather what?"

"Intimidating." Remus chuckled. "It's frightening how well you retain information, Harry."

Harry snickered, "I've always been that way, Remus. I can't begin to tell you how hard it was to hold myself back when Dudley and I were attending the same school."

Remus cocked an eyebrow, "Holding back? Whatever for?"

"Surely you don't think the Dursleys would approve of me outshining Dudley in _anything_?" Harry shook his head, "After I started at Stonewall, and Dudley went to Smeltings, it was easier to just go ahead and work to my ability. They blamed it on the 'low standards of Stonewall' and the 'obviously biased teachers' at Smeltings."

Remus sighed and pushed his rising hatred of anything Dursley out of his mind. If Tonks and Dumbledore were correct, the entire family – Harry excluded, of course – would be served their just desserts soon. "In any case, it appears as though we will need to start bringing in outside help. I'm afraid the only areas I still have more for you would be defense and, if you're interested, some languages."

"Languages? I'm taking Latin at school."

"I know. However, I also know French and German; if you wanted to learn them, it wouldn't be a problem."

Harry grinned, "Sounds good to me. About this 'outside help,' who did you have in mind?"

"Likely professors from Hogwarts. Considering how quickly you learn, it wouldn't be that much of a hardship on either their time or patience. There's still a solid month before the school disperses for the holidays, so for now, I want you to focus on your potions studies. I'll see if I can convince Snape to spare a couple of hours a week, so you can get some practical work done, and if he thinks you're ready, we can get you signed up to sit for the OWLs the first week of January."

"Brilliant," was Harry's only reply.

The Saturday following the only quidditch match he'd ever watched, Harry found himself nervously pacing his room. This was going to be the first day of his tutelage under someone not Remus. Professor Snape was due to arrive at any moment.

A light knock at his door caused Harry to jump, startled, with his wand in hand, before realizing what was happening. He shook his head and stowed the wand away before answering the door. To his surprise, it was neither Jenn nor Remus, but the potions master, himself. "Professor."

The man nodded, peering past Harry. "Potter. Your… guardian told me you keep a copy of that program up here?"

Harry nodded, "I do. Come in." He stepped out of the way and stepped over to his desk. After turning the computer on, he turned back to Snape. "Wait here a moment, I'll be right back with another chair."

When Harry ducked out of the room, Snape took a few moments to examine his environs. He was pleased to find the room was almost obsessively neat; he wouldn't have to contend with the normal adolescent sloppiness in his lab. The easel in the corner, complete with a half-finished painting of a landscape, leant credence to his theory that the richly detailed forest gracing one wall had come from the same hand, presumably Potter's. That same easel was also the only area in the room where any sort of chaos presented itself, though Snape had no doubts that Potter knew precisely where each brush, jar, and tube was – rather like his personal rooms at Hogwarts. Though a far cry from his dungeons, he liked how the boy had managed to create the illusion of being outdoors. Closer inspection confirmed the illusion had been achieved through solely muggle means. Scanning the titles on the bookshelf revealed nothing of a frivolous nature. All-in-all, in the few, short minutes he was alone in the room, he felt satisfied with his assessment of Harry's personality. The boy was obviously a meticulous, well-ordered individual who knew who he was and what he liked and was comfortable with himself.

He returned to his place near the desk when he heard the boy returning. Harry smiled at his guest, "Thanks for waiting, sorry that took so long, the chair was buried at the back of the closet."

"Not an issue." Snape sat warily on the metal contraption. He motioned to the computer, only knowing what it was after having looked into Potter's prior claim concerning the muggle contraptions. "If you would?"

Harry grinned, "Of course." He double-clicked on the icon to start up the potions program. _Note to self: We really need to come up with a name for this. I can't keep calling it 'the program' forever, especially if we can come up with other study aides._

Harry spent a few minutes explaining how to use the program and showing the professor how to use the touch-pad to control the cursor before relinquishing his chair to the man. Since the program was easy to use, Harry sat back and watched while Snape spent about half an hour scanning through the various aspects of it. When he was done familiarizing himself with it, the professor reached into a pocket and withdrew a scroll. "It seems adequate for simple brews, however, I must admit to being intrigued by the possibilities for more advanced work."

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked.

Snape unrolled the scroll. "I've been working on some experimental potions… One in particular seems rather disinclined to further adjustment."

"What's the potion for?" Harry asked.

"It's a healing potion for sufferers of a particularly nasty curse," Snape replied, clicking on the 'What About This?' option.

It took him a few minutes to enter in the ingredients and processes he had finalized, then ran the program. A progress bar popped up with a heading that said 'Compiling results, one moment please.' "How long will this take?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know. I'm not precisely qualified to try out experimental potions." Harry chuckled a bit. "Or any potions, for that matter."

The computer beeped, recapturing Snape's attention, "That is something, Potter, that I aim to correct in the near future…" he trailed off as he read the information on the screen. In the span of a few, short seconds it seemed as though the professor forgot Harry's presence. "Murtlap root… belladonna… inherent nature of regenerative magics… stable boil… addition of pulverized dragon scale… 80 percent success rate… possible increase to 95 percent with addition of phoenix tears." Snape snorted, "Phoenix tears. Right. I know but a single phoenix currently associating with wizardkind, and he doesn't exactly cry on command."

"Pardon, sir?"

Snape shook his head, pulling himself back to the present. "It's not important, Potter. From what I can see, the program appears to function properly. For the time being, I see no issue in you using it to study from."

Harry's smile threatened to crack his face. "Fantastic. And your professional opinion regarding the program?"

Severus thought for a moment before answering. "It would be most useful, however, there is the minor issue of this type of technology not working in magic-heavy areas. Most potions laboratories are excruciatingly warded, thus the ambient magic is much higher than normal."

"Thanks for the compliment, sir."

Snape quirked an eyebrow, "And what compliment was that?"

Harry chuckled, "That you badly want a copy of the program and are disappointed that you can't have one."

Harry's comment made Snape wonder, however briefly, if one's magical strength was directly proportionate to one's ability to read people. Had he not been the occlumens he was, he would have suspected the boy of legilimency. Once his mind jumped through that topic, though, he could see how someone could deduce the correct assumption. Instead of giving voice to any of these almost random thoughts, he indicated it was time for Harry's first potions practical. He followed the boy to the area in the garage that had been prepared for brewing, all the time musing on how much the spawn of his former enemy – still hated, en memoriam – had managed to surprise him.

* * *

_November 19, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_Sorry I missed you on the thirteenth; Hermione said that Dumbledore needed to talk to you. We should reschedule for the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas hols. It'll be the second weekend in December. We all leave for the hols the following Wednesday._

_So, what did you think of quidditch? Isn't it great? I wanted to strangle the ref, though, he couldn't spot a foul if his life depended on it! Not to mention he seems to think he's still refereeing professional matches. I mean, we're good, but we're not _that_ good._

_See you later,  
Ron_

* * *

_November 20, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_What did the headmaster want to talk to you about? Was it your studies? Aren't you getting close to being able to test for your OWLs?_

_Oh, you asked about the Animagus transformation in your last letter, I was going to let you know about this book when you were here, but didn't get the chance. You want to get a copy of 'The Beast Within' by Thomas Volk. Professor McGonagall is a cat-animagus and said that it's the only decent guide out there. She also said to tell you if you needed assistance to let her know and she would be happy to answer any questions. I don't think she quite approves of Sirius. When I was talking with her, she seemed glad that he'd been freed, but she didn't seem to think he was an appropriate teacher._

_Have you made any progress on your other idea? Personally, I would love to be able to bring my computer with me to school. It makes organizing notes so much easier! And if you can convince Jennifer to come up with some other programs… I can see scores of future students benefiting, particularly the muggle-born, like me._

_Keep me informed and let me know if there's anything you need.  
Hermione_

* * *

_November 20, 1997  
Dear Ron,_

_Sorry to have missed you, I had to talk with Dumbledore._

_Sounds like a plan. I'll see if either Remus or Sirius wants to go to the Three Broomsticks that weekend, if not, I'll see if I can come by myself. It's not like I've never been there before._

_The quidditch game was… interesting. However, though I can see why others would be obsessed with the game, I just couldn't get into it. It seemed way too complicated and dangerous, though the flying part looked like fun. When I get through the OWL exams, I'm going to ask if either Sirius or Remus will show me how to fly. Speaking of which, is there a specific broom you would recommend? I don't want to buy one I'd get laughed at for flying, nor do I need one designed for that game._

_Hopefully see you soon,  
Harry_

* * *

_November 21, 1997  
Dear Hermione,_

_Yes, I think I am getting close to OWL-level, at least, Remus says so. About Dumbledore… I don't think you really want to know._

_Thanks for the book recommendation. I'll look into getting a copy as soon as possible. I take it you've already read it? Do you think you'll be trying it?_

_Not much progress on the magic-to-electricity conversion just yet. I'm still trying to puzzle out how to read the schematics you sent. What they have showing makes absolutely no sense. What's with the diagram with all the squiggles and dots? I have the feeling that's the key to this whole thing._

_In any case, Ron and I were talking about meeting at the Three Broomsticks the weekend before your holiday vacation starts. Care to join us? I still have to double-check with Remus to make sure it'll be okay, but I don't think he'll have any problems with it. On a side-note, it's rather funny how Jennifer, Allen, and Remus all split 'parental' stuff over me. Jennifer handles anything related to my muggle school, Allen handles my work and other muggle whatnot, and Remus, by default, handles everything magical._

_Just a thought, weren't you the one telling me to be careful with new ideas in the wizarding arena? Or did you want me to continue purely for your own selfish reasons?_

_Take care,  
Harry_

* * *

Remus sat in the headmaster's office, sipping tea. The full moon was that night, and, as Dumbledore had promised, he would be allowed use of the Shrieking Shack. The wolf within was nearly bouncing off the walls. He would get to run with Padfoot once again; the long-lost member of his pack was returned to him. Ignoring the inner glee and anticipation, Remus continued the conversation. "I'm shocked at how well he and Sna- Severus are getting along."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm not."

"And that doesn't surprise me one bit." Remus sipped his tea. "You always seem to know what's going on. It's like you've got an ethereal spy following everyone."

Dumbledore unwrapped a jawbreaker, "No, Remus. I just know how people are likely to act; merely one of the perks of having been around as long as I have."

"Care to enlighten a werewolf of not-so-many-years?"

"Certainly." He popped the sweet into his mouth, savoring the slightly sour flavor of green apple. "You are aware I spoke with Harry after the match last week. During that conversation, I believe I gained an accurate assessment of his personality, and it isn't so surprising that he and Severus would get along. They've both had somewhat similar childhoods. They're both a bit bitter over those experiences. They are both keenly intelligent and observant. It's really not so shocking, when you think about it."

Remus chuckled, "There is a difference, Albus, between the two. Several, in fact. Harry's a friendly chap that helps out whoever needs it; he smiles, laughs, and jokes. He's fun to be around. Severus, on the other hand, is a sarcastic, embittered man that hates everybody but his Slytherins."

Albus shook his head, a little sadly, "And what makes you so certain Harry wouldn't have been one of Severus' Slytherin students had he attended Hogwarts?"

Remus laughed out loud. "Come on, Albus! You can't be serious. Harry? A Slytherin? Maybe when pigs fly without magic and fish start spouting sonnets. He's about as far from Slytherin as I am. However, I will admit he's not likely a Gryffindor. He's too prone to thinking things through. After these last months, I'd say he's a Ravenclaw at heart. He loves learning too much not to be."

Albus, of course, had to argue the point, "And what of Miss Granger? She has a vast love of learning, as well, yet was sorted to Gryffindor."

Remus shrugged, "That just means her bravery is more powerful than her intelligence, which, now that I think of it, rather frightening, wouldn't you say?"

Dumbledore chortled. "It is at that, my friend. However, back to the topic at hand, though Harry has a love of learning, that doesn't preclude him from being Slytherin by nature."

Remus just smiled softly and shook his head. "I know many have called you senile, Albus, but I never believed them until now."

The headmaster laughed again. "And I fear we shall have to agree to disagree on this topic until such time as we can have the Sorting Hat sort this out."

Remus groaned at the blatant pun. "I reiterate what I said about senility, Albus. You sure it's not time to call in the men with the little white coats and butterfly nets?"

Albus twinkled as he unwrapped another jawbreaker. "Perhaps, my boy, perhaps."

* * *

_November 24, 1997  
Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_I talked with Jenn and Allen _and_ Remus, and they said that if it was all right with your parents, you were invited to spend a week at our place over vacation. From Boxing Day until New Year's Day. Of course, if you already have plans for New Year's Eve, I won't mind._

_Write back to let me know what they say. Remus said that the floo here should be connected by Christmas, at the latest. What is it about bureaucracy that drags an hour-long job out over eight weeks?_

_Hope to see you soon,  
Harry_

* * *

_November 26, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_Of course we'd love to come, Ron's mum doesn't mind, so long as she gets a chance to talk to Jenn first. I'm sure my parents won't care, either. I don't know if they'll let me stay there overnight, but I can always apparate back and forth, if need be._

_How's it coming with your little pet project? Making any headway? And how are your lessons with Professor Snape? (Ron's sitting here, shuddering at the thought of more classes with 'the greasy git' – his words, not mine.) Did you show him the program? What did he think? Will I get a chance to see it over break? Did you get all the bugs worked out? (And now Ron's wondering if there were any spiders involved. I'll talk to him about it later. Honestly! I told him he should have taken Muggle Studies.)_

_See you during break, even if I have to sneak out,  
Hermione (& Ron)_

_P.S. Were we still meeting at the Three Broomsticks on the thirteenth? (What is with us and meeting on that day? Hopefully, it will go a bit smoother than last time.)_

* * *

Nervously, Harry attempted to flatten his hair once again. He idly pondered shaving it, but decided that would hardly make him _more_ presentable. He was meeting with Melissa Chambers from Social Services this afternoon. The lengthy investigation into the actions of all three Dursleys was almost complete. There was one final interview. Harry peered into the mirror and swallowed. His.

The night before, he had dug through the very back of his closet and removed the t-shirt, jeans, and trainers he had been wearing the day he left the Dursleys. Remus had finite'd the reparo charm on his old glasses. Remus had mentioned that the physical evidence of the items would likely come in handy, if this issue ever had to go before a judge, and Andie had confirmed it. He glanced at his alarm clock for what had to have been the ninetieth time in as many seconds. Chambers was due any moment. He tucked the glasses into the pocket of the worn-out jeans and wrapped the shirt and jeans around the pair of trainers. He tucked them under his arm, made sure his wand was secured in its holster, and apprehensively wandered towards the parlor.

Jenn threw him a sympathetic smile, as did Remus. Allen was, of course, at the shop. Sirius, as well, had been warned that Harry was going to be home, but busy today – and no, he _didn't_ need any help, thankyouverymuch. Unfortunately, to Harry's way of thinking, neither of his two present 'parents' was going to be allowed to sit with him. Andie, as his legal council, was, though, and she should be arriving with the social worker.

A knock at the front door alerted everyone to the arrival of their guests. Jenn answered the door while Remus gave Harry a good-luck pat on the back and disappeared upstairs. Jennifer shortly reappeared, the tall, dark-haired figure of Andromeda Tonks following her closely, and a short length behind them, a chubby woman in her early thirties. She had mouse-brown hair, pulled up and held in place by a barrette, hazel eyes half-hidden by a pair of clunky tortoise-shell frames, and was wearing a navy blue suit. She smiled at Harry and offered her hand, "I'm Melissa Chambers, Mr. Potter. A pleasure to meet you."

Harry shook the woman's hand, struggling not to show any signs of how nervous he was, but failing miserably, as his voice croaked, "You, too."

Chambers laughed it off, "It's all right to be a little anxious, Mr. Potter. Frankly, I'd be worried if you weren't."

Her affirmation had the desired effect, and the majority of his tension bled away. He smiled, though it was still a touch edgy. "Call me Harry, please."

"Okay, Harry. You can call me Melissa, or Lissa for short."

"Please have a seat." He indicated the sofa with a nod of his head. Andie had already made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs, a yellow legal pad on her knee.

Melissa sat and pulled a thick stack of papers out of her briefcase and a pad of paper identical to Andie's. "Shall we get started?"

Harry nodded, "Soonest begun, soonest done." He claimed the other armchair as his own.

"Precisely." She flipped through the stack of computer print-outs. "Ah, here we go. Would you please explain, in your own words, your experiences growing up with the Dursley family?"

Harry cleared his throat and started his tale. Both of the women present took notes through the entire telling. "Well, when my parents died, I was left with the Dursleys – they are my only living blood relatives. I don't remember much about my life with them before I started school…" He told them about how he had been unaware of his own name, about how the only time he had been taken to see a doctor was when he had broken his arm at the hands of his cousin, about how he was expected to do all the chores while his cousin was allowed to do nothing more than pursue his own entertainments. He explained about how his bedroom for ten years had been the cupboard under the stairs, about how he had been expected to cook for the family from the age of six, about how, when it was reveled he needed glasses, he had been locked in his cupboard for a month, and how he was routinely denied meals as a punishment. He relayed tales of neglect and mental and verbal abuse and gifts of tissue and mangled coat hangars. He told of learning not to complain. He did confirm, though, that the only one to regularly hurt him physically was his cousin. He mentioned that his uncle seemed to abhor touching him at all, and he had only received the occasional slap from his aunt. On and on the tale went, until finally, throat creaking from over-use, Harry finished out with his 'escape' to the Kellermans' and how the Dursleys appeared not to have made a single gesture of locating him or otherwise contacting him.

When he fell silent, he flicked his gaze over the two women seated nearby. Andie was surreptitiously wiping at her eyes; Melissa was pale and had an angry set to her brows that disappeared when she looked up from her notes.

After a strained silence, Melissa put her things away. It took her two tries to get her own voice to work. "Thank you, Harry. You can be sure I will keep in touch."

Emotionally drained, Harry retreated to his room and his waiting paints.

* * *

**A/N2:** That seemed a good place to leave off for now. This particular update was a fluke. I hadn't expected this winfall of internet-access. Barring another fluke, the next update will likely be next week Thursday or Friday (the 29th or 30th.) 

Review, oh Review, wherefore art thou Review? Deny thy nature and refuse thy apathy, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn, my love, and I'll no longer be a museless author!


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. Sigh. Oh, well. If it were mine, then I'd know how it all ends, and I probably wouldn't be writing fanfiction.

**A/N:** Wow. I had to goggle in shock at my email in-box when it showed I had received roughly seventy reviews since I last updated. I'm nearing the 400 review mark. I never thought, back when the bunny for this one bit me, that this would be so _popular_. Thank you. You guys are why I keep on writing this one. As to my other fics, when I get my computer back online next week, the others will be updated, never fear!

This chapter is short, mainly because I only had a couple of hours of internet access in which to both write it and get it posted. Any mistakes are mine; I figured y'all would want an unbetaed chapter rather than none at all.

Also, I wanted to mention that I couldn't recall if I had mentioned Harry telling Hermione about the Dursleys at all, and didn't have time to re-read what I'd written thus far, so, if I've not, then assume that was one of the things they talked about during one of her visits before school started.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Dragon Tears?**

Allen nearly choked on his toast. "Honey? Have you seen the paper?"

Jennifer looked up from the stove. "Not yet. Why?"

He handed the local paper to his wife, thankful Harry wasn't due for the kitchen for a few minutes, yet.

Jenn scanned the front page, "What am I looking… Oh, my…" She sat rather heavily on one of the kitchen chairs. The article was on the far right hand corner of the page; not major news, by any means.

**_Local Couple Implicated in Bribery, Embezzlement  
_**_Sean Fillips_

_Vernon Dursley (age 51) and his wife, Petunia Dursley (nee Evans, age 49) were arrested yesterday evening on charges including bribery of Social Services personnel (concerning an investigation regarding abuse allegations from their nephew.)_

_V. Dursley had been fired from his position of Vice President at Grunnings Drill Manufactory yesterday afternoon due to 'unethical practices,' though an unnamed informant within the company hinted towards embezzlement._

_The Dursleys have a son, Dudley, age 17, who has been sent to live with Margorie Dursley, V. Dursley's sister. Their nephew, Harry Potter, who had lived with the family for the past sixteen years, is rumored to be living with friends, though he was unreachable for comment._

_If found guilty of bribery, the Dursleys will face a minimum sentence of five years in prison. Should the rumor of embezzlement hold true, V. Dursley can look to add an additional 20 years, minimum._

_As a resident of Little Whinging for the past thirty years, and having had the misfortune of actually meeting the Dursleys on more than one occasion, it is this humble reporter's opinion that this couldn't have happened to a more deserving family._

Just as Jenn was finishing the article, Harry emerged in the kitchen, followed closely by Remus. "I don't know, Remus. It just seems a bit too…" Harry trailed off. "What?" he asked Jenn and Allen, both of whom where staring at him. The doorbell sounded before they could answer.

"Here," Jenn handed Harry the paper, tapping the article in the corner, before going to see who was at the door.

Harry read the article, then smirked and handed the paper to Remus. Remus was finishing it when Jennifer returned, Tonks and Andie at her side. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hey, Tonks. Whacha doing by this early?" Harry grinned at the metamorphamagus.

Jenn pointed towards the coffee pot on the counter, "There's coffee ready if you need any, Tonks. Feel free to help yourself."

Tonks grinned and made a B-line for the pot. "Sweet, sweet caffeine."

Andie just shook her head fondly, "Never change, hon."

"Why _are_ you two here? This have anything to do with the article in this morning's paper?" Allen asked.

Andie nodded and sat at the table. "That's right. With both Petunia and Vernon currently sitting in jail – pending bail, of course – it was easier to get a judge to sign off on this," she pulled a stack of papers out of her jacket pocket and handed them to Harry.

"What are these?" Harry asked.

"Emancipation paperwork. You're officially your own ward."

"Excellent." Harry handed the papers to Remus, who tapped them with his wand, banishing them to the mess of Harry's other papers and financial documents that the werewolf was slowly helping the teen straighten out and organize.

Once she'd had some caffeine, Tonks brightened considerably, both figuratively and literally – as she woke up, her hair slowly brightened from dusky rose to neon pink, with eyes to match. Harry snickered at the sight. "If that's what caffeine does to you, I'd hate to see you try anything stronger. The rest of us would probably end up blind."

Tonks stuck her tongue out at Harry and went back to her coffee while the other occupants of the room giggled. "You know, you should be a tad more grateful, Harry."

"How so?"

Tonks smirked, "Because I was the one doing all the work, you know. To get you emancipated and whatnot."

"I know you were doing your job, Tonks, and I _am_ grateful. Did you want more than a thank-you?" Harry's grin grew wider, "Hey, I know! Do you want a house? There's what… Eight of the damn things in that list you gave me, Remus?"

Remus chuckled at Tonks' gobsmacked expression. "No, there's nine. You're forgetting the cottage in Canada."

Tonks shook her head, forcibly reminding herself that the Potters were a very wealthy family. "In any case, no. I'm not looking for anything more than maybe a compliment or two. I'm actually over because I heard the most interesting rumor about my cousin."

"Second-cousin, dear. He's _my_ cousin." Andie chided.

"Whatever, he was still my favorite relative." Tonks made a waving motion with her hand and promptly knocked her mug to the floor.

With a long-suffering sigh, Andie had her wand out and uttered a reparo charm before anyone could react.

"Sirius bought the house you were staying in, Tonks. I'm sure you will find your way without any issues. The boys and I should be going; we're almost late as it is." Allen nodded to both Tonks and her mother before preceding Harry and Remus out of the house.

* * *

_November 30, 1997  
Dear Hermione,_

_Guess what! I've been declared emancipated from the Dursleys! They're in jail right now, apparently they had been bribing Social Services… There was even an article in the paper._

_Looking forward to seeing you and Ron soon,_

_Harry_

* * *

_December 1, 1997  
Harry,_

_That's fantastic!_

_Oh, and I found a copy of a book you should read. It's called The Magic of Muggles; it explains why normal electronics don't work in magical areas. It also has a more detailed description through which the Wizarding Wireless sets work. Once you've read it, we really should talk. I have some ideas on how to adapt the microwarding used in isolation of the transistor circuitry for use in computer-based technology._

_Hermione_

* * *

"As you seem to have the basics well in hand, Potter, we will begin on slightly more complicated potions this afternoon." Snape greeted Harry in his customary manner, brusque and to the point. He handed Harry a slip of parchment. "Just from the ingredients, what should this potion do?"

Harry scanned down the list, "Hmm… Aconite, yarrow, hibiscus, hippogriff feather… Dragon tears? Do they mean actual dragons or the little glass beads with the twirly thing in them?"

Snape quirked an eyebrow, "Glass beads, Potter?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, they're used… Oh, in aquariums, for game-pieces, decoration. They're not quite circular and look kind of squashed. I don't know what else they're called; I've only ever heard them referred to as dragon tears."

Snape was lost in thought. He had given that particular list to Harry as a test. Though dragons were real enough, they didn't cry, so the potion would be impossible to make. However, the book he'd pulled it from – a journal of the potions master he'd apprenticed to – had insisted the recipe was possible. _Glass is magically inert, though… Didn't Potter say something about a 'twirly thing' in the center of the bead? But they're muggle-made. How could a muggle item harbor any sort of magical connection?_

"Sir?"

Snape dragged his attention back to the teen before him. "Show me these 'dragon tears' of yours, Potter."

Harry led the way to Allen's den. A small aquarium stood in the corner, currently empty of both fish and water. Lining the bottom of the glass box, though, were two inches of glass pebbles with a small, blue twist of material in their centers. He reached in and pulled out a handful of the manufactured stones. "Here you go. Dragon tears."

Snape picked up one of the stones. "Actual dragons, Potter, are like any other lizard. They do not cry."

"Ah. And since you didn't know what I was talking about, that list of ingredients wouldn't have made anything. Are these magical at all?"

Snape pulled out his wand. "We shall see." He murmured something Harry didn't quite catch all of, but knew to be a part of the _Revealo-_series of spells. The room was suddenly blanketed in a flash of blue light.

After blinking several times to clear the after-image of the flash of light out of his eyes, Harry chuckled, "I think that answers _that_ question. Isn't cobalt a magic-capacitor? At least, that's what it said in that book about magic and electronics that Hermione recommended I read."

Snape nodded slowly, "I take it that is what the muggles use to create the 'twirly thing,' as you so aptly put it?"

"Usually, yeah. I have seen some that had yellow or red twirlies, but most are blue."

"Even so, it should not have reacted so strongly. Even cobalt has to be charmed to act as a capacitor."

Harry looked more closely at one of the dragon tears. "Not necessarily, Professor Snape. Take a closer look at the tear. It's the same general shape as a magnifying glass, and the little twirly has five points." Harry laughed, "Though completely accidental, they managed to come up with the same design as the capacitors used in a wireless set. Because of the shape of the glass and configuration of the points of the twirly, it attracts and magnifies ambient magical energy."

"What book was this found in?" Though he would never deign to show it, Snape was impressed.

"Magic of Muggles. Like I said, Hermione suggested I read it. I'm trying to figure out a way to get you a copy of that program."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

* * *

**A/N2:** And that's all I had time for today. I still plan on having another update on Friday or Saturday. Thanks again for reading!

Reviews are sugar, guys.

So, with that said:

Come on and pour some sugar on me…

Damnit. Now I've got that song stuck in my head…


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** Not JKR. Not Led Zepplin, the Stones, the Beatles, or any other group/business/individual that might be quoted at any point. Don't sue.

**A/N:** Wow. I'm a day earlier getting to my destination than I had anticipated, so I thought I would celebrate with allowing y'all a nice and not-as-short chapter. As always, help yourself to a cookie on me!

This chappie covers a bit of Snape/Dumbledore interaction, an argument between Remus and Sirius, an exasperated Harry, the introduction of Arthur Weasley, and dun _dun **dun!**_ Harry's sorting!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Sorted**

"And how goes your training of Mister Potter, Severus?" Albus asked, not even bothering to offer the potions master any sweets – he knew they'd just be declined.

"Rather like teaching a Ravenclaw, only without the attitude that he already knows it all. It's refreshing, to say the least."

Dumbledore conjured a tea service, "I would have thought him to be more of a Slytherin, myself."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "How so?"

"A couple of weeks ago, when he was on the grounds, I had the opportunity to speak with him. To be quite frank, Severus, he reminded me of you."

"I was never that innocent."

"Innocent, Severus? What do you mean?"

Snape stared into his teacup, "The boy is far more lighthearted and," he sneered, "_happy_ than I ever was, Albus. I would think even you could see that."

Dumbledore took a moment to ponder the information. After relying on Snape's information during the war of fifteen years prior, he had grown used to trusting the man's ability to read people. Albus shook his head, "I must be getting old, Severus. I don't recall meeting a lighthearted or happy Harry. He was… Well, he said a few things – rather forcefully, I'll add – that led me to believe his life and yours were not so different…"

Though Severus was curious as to what could have precipitated the headmaster's misreading of the irritatingly cheerful – yet reasonably intelligent – youth, he deigned not to voice the question he wanted, instead he asked, "Just how could his life be anything like mine?"

"You are aware he is not currently living with his aunt and uncle?" Severus nodded and Dumbledore proceeded to explain just how Harry came to live at the Kellermans.

* * *

Harry sighed and looked up at his door. He was supposed to be working on studying his potions information, but it sounded like Sirius had dropped by, and he and Remus had immediately started in on the 'What House Harry Is' argument. _If I didn't know better, I would swear those two weren't friends! They like to argue too much…_ Harry shook his head and decided that it was time to put an end to the argument. He hurried down the stairs. "Guys?"

"But, Remus, he's a lot like James! Lily, too, for that matter! They were both Gryffindors. I don't see why Harry wouldn't have been in Gryffindor, too!"

"Guys?" Harry tried to grab either Sirius' or Remus' attention again.

"And your entire family had been in Slytherin for how many generations, Sirius? The bloodline does not make the house – it's the person that does."

Harry ignored Sirius' rebuttal in order to retrieve his wand from where it was secured to his forearm. Sending a neutral flash of white light – for he knew that making it any sort of color at this point would be taken as confirmation of one House or another – Harry shouted, "Guys!" Startled into silence, Sirius and Remus turned to face Harry, looking more than a little sheepish. "This is the umpteenth time I've been forced to hear this argument. Pick _something else_ to argue about!"

"But, Harry," Sirius started, but didn't get very far.

"No 'buts,' Sirius. I'm well and truly _sick_ of it. Why is this such a fascinating topic for you two?" Harry turned to Remus for the answer.

Remus shrugged, "I guess it's because we both went to Hogwarts. We're used to being able to make simple assessments of how people are likely to act based on their Hogwarts house."

Sirius nodded, "You know, I never really thought of it that way, but everyone that went to Hogwarts does do that, or something like that, with any witch or wizard they meet. D'you suppose that's why the majority of us don't travel much? Because we don't know how to react to people that aren't in a House? I mean, I don't know a single witch or wizard that routinely travels even to France for holiday. It rather threw me when I was talking to my neighbor and she mentioned spending almost every other weekend with her husband at their house in Ireland."

Remus shrugged, "I don't know, but it does makes sense."

Harry sighed and sat on one of the armchairs. "Fine then. Tell me more about the houses. I know you've mentioned before that there are four of them; Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. Tell me why you keep fighting about this – why do you think I'm a Ravenclaw, Remus? Why Gryffindor, Sirius? Why not the other two?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look. Sirius made a motion with his hand, "You're better at explaining things than I am."

Remus nodded in agreement, "That I do." He faced Harry once more. "You see, the Houses at Hogwarts are split how they are based on what aspect of your personality is strongest. Ravenclaw's defining characteristic is a love of learning for learning's sake. Gryffindors are brave and just, Slytherins are cunning and ambitious, and Hufflepuffs are loyal and hardworking."

Harry shook his head, "Sounds like a horrid way to manage a school."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that if you put everyone with the same personality traits together, then how are they supposed to change and grow? If you live with a bunch of people that hold to the same basic ideals, where does change come from? From what you two have told me, as well as what Ron and Hermione have told me in their letters, the houses don't intermingle outside of classes. You've likewise told me about the biases that exist regarding blood purity. Can't you see how the house situation would give strength to the blood purity issue?"

"How's that?" Sirius asked. Harry seemed to have completely changed topics on him without warning.

"Well, Remus has mentioned before that most of the 'pureblood' students get sorted into Slytherin house. If they're constantly surrounded by people raised to believe that whole spiel, how are they going to learn that it's inaccurate to assume that 'pureblood' means the same thing as 'better?'" Harry paused to take a breath. "In being put with others whose basic personality is the same as yours, you aren't given the option to change. Those aspects that landed you in your house are shared by those around you – and keep in mind that this is during the teenage years where conformity is actively sought by everyone. I would imagine that someone in… let's say Gryffindor for the sake of argument, someone in Gryffindor trying to develop the Slytherin trait of cunning would be discouraged from doing so, thus making that person less likely to use that aspect of their personality in the future. Taking the example to the extreme, the person in question may actually bury their 'cunning' so deeply they'd never be able to express it.

"It just sounds like a bad way to split groups up. It doesn't lend itself to balance."

Sirius sighed, "I think I see what you mean, Remus. Definitely a Ravenclaw."

Harry growled and got to his feet, he had had enough of this! He pulled out his wand and aimed it at first Sirius, then Remus, casting two quick silencing charms. "I've had enough. If you two want to keep on about this, do so quietly." He stormed back to his room.

Remus cancelled the spells. "No, I think you might have been right after all, Padfoot. That was definitely a Gryffindor action."

* * *

"Whacha working on, 'Mione?" Ron asked, looking over Hermione's shoulder.

"Not much, just a bit of research for Harry." She didn't even look up from the book she was reading.

Ron sprawled in a nearby chair, earning a glare from Madam Pince. "What is it, though? The only other time I see someone looking through that book," he gestured towards the copy of Magic of Muggles she was reading, "is when Dad's trying to charm a… cell-block, no, that's not right… One of those traveling fellytones that the muggles use. Or one of those little picture-boxes. Or something else that runs off ekletricity."

Hermione sighed and closed the book, "First, it's a _cellular phone_, _telephone_, _television_, and _electricity_. Second, what would your father be doing charming those items? Doesn't he _work_ in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office?"

Ron laughed, "That he does, but he's completely muggle-mad. Fascinated by all those things that muggles can do without magic."

Hermione nodded, making a snap decision, and quickly gathered her notes and books into her backpack. "Come on, Ron, you're going to get me in touch with your dad." She pulled Ron to his feet.

"What? Why?" Ron asked.

"Because this is more his area than mine." She continued tugging him out of the library and towards Gryffindor tower.

* * *

_December 7, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_Would you believe I have located someone uniquely suited to help you with your little pet project?_

_Ron's dad is apparently a bit obsessed with muggles and technology. Now, what I'm going to tell you can't be repeated – it would get him into trouble. Arthur Weasley has managed to charm a car to run off of magic, as well as a record-player, three clocks, and numerous lamps. He probably knows more about the transference of magic to electricity than any other wizard._

_I wrote to him, and let him know a bit about what you're trying to do, and he wanted more information, so, I wrote back to let him know he should probably talk to you since I don't know quite how far you've gotten. Here's his address:_

_Arthur Weasley  
The Burrow  
Ottery St. Catchpole_

_Eek! Look at the time! I've got Ancient Runes in ten minutes! Talk to you later!_

_Hermione_

* * *

_December 8, 1997  
Dear Mr. Weasley:_

_My name is Harry Potter, and I was directed to talk with you by my friend, Hermione Granger. I'm currently trying to figure out a way to convert magic into electricity in order to run a notebook computer. Hermione goes to school with Ron, and Ron was the one that told her how successful you are with projects like these._

_I would appreciate any sort of assistance you could give me with this project. Of course, I am more than willing to compensate you for your time. If you know of anyone more suited to a project like this, please let me know._

_Thank you for your time, sir.  
Harry J. Potter_

* * *

_December 8, 1997  
Dear Hermione,_

_Thanks for the information, and thank Ron for me, too. I sent Mr. Weasley a letter. Hopefully he won't laugh too hard._

_We still on for the thirteenth?_

_Harry_

* * *

_December 9, 1997  
Hey Harry,_

_Just what did you say to my dad? He sent me a long, rambling letter that took both me and Hermione over an hour to sort through, only to discover that it boiled down to: Hey Ron. How's class? How do you know Harry Potter? Do you know why he's working on charming muggle technology? Why did you tell him I'd be good to contact? I only tinker! Mum says hello._

_It went on for eight feet._

_Anyway, I get the impression he'd like to meet you. Is it alright if he drops by on Saturday?_

_See you this weekend,  
Ron_

* * *

_December 9, 1997  
Dear Harry,_

_Ron got a letter from his dad today. Apparently, once we managed to separate it out into coherent sentences, he's rather excited to be asked to work on this project with you, and more than a little star-struck that it's _you_ that's asked him._

_I know you haven't had much interaction in the wizarding world, but do keep in mind you are famous. You writing to Ron's dad would be something akin to you getting a random letter from Stephen Hawking or someone similar._

_If it's fine with you, then Ron's dad will stop by the Three Broomsticks on Saturday, and you can tell him in a bit more detail what you're working on and what you've done thus far._

_See you soon,  
Hermione_

* * *

_December 10, 1997  
Dear Mr. Potter:_

_I must admit it was a bit of a shock to hear from you. I would be honored to assist in any way I can. I was informed by my son that you will be in Hogsmeade this weekend. I know this is short notice, but would it be possible to speak with you while you are there?_

_Thank you for your consideration,_

_Arthur Weasley_

* * *

The remainder of the week prior to the thirteenth of December passed quickly. Harry's time was even more stretched than normal since the end of the term at Stonewall was rapidly approaching. He had major projects due in History, Latin, and Physics. He also had a series of five paintings to finish for his 2-D art class, and a sculpture to finish for his 3-D art class. He was working ten hours a week at the shop, and when he was there, the guys were hard-pressed to drag his attention from whatever book – muggle or magic – he had his nose buried in.

Allen decided, in the interest of Harry's sanity, to let him know that he would be taking a leave of absence from the shop. He knew that Harry would protest, not wanting to leave them shorthanded, but Allen figured he could always point out that Mike's arm had been healed for a while now, and Remus was still technically employed there. If Harry pressed the issue, Allen would let him know that Harry would be on-call, just in case the shop got really busy.

He needn't have worried. Harry just looked relieved and said, "Thanks, Allen. I was trying to figure out a way to tell you I needed more time. I just didn't want to leave you shorthanded."

"Don't worry about it, Harry. Remus has agreed to stay on as long as I need him, especially since the two of you don't have quite as much to go over together, anymore."

Harry yawned, glancing at the clock. It was only ten. "I want to sleep, but I don't think I have the time… I have that paper for history due next week, and I haven't even started the sculpture, yet…"

"Go to bed, Harry. Two extra hours aren't going to make much difference in the long run."

"I suppose you're right, Allen. See you tomorrow."

That had been Thursday. Friday had been spent at school, and working on his history paper and physics project. He finished the paper, and crawled into bed just as his clock ticked over to midnight.

Saturday dawned bright and sunny. It must have snowed during the night, though, as there were a good three inches covering everything. Harry blearily opened his eyes and blinked at the fuzzy numbers on his alarm clock. _Ten? Ten?_ He bolted out of bed, putting his glasses on in the process. _How'd I sleep so late?_ He hurried to his closet and pulled on a jumper. He was dressed in record time.

Sirius and Remus were sitting in the kitchen, chatting with Jennifer. All three looked up when a breathless Harry tripped over his own feet and sprawled on the floor. "Ow."

"You alright there, Harry?" Remus asked while Sirius snickered.

"Been taking grace lessons from Tonks, have you?"

"You could have waken me." Harry said as he got back to his feet.

"I told them not to, Harry. You needed the sleep." Jennifer said, handing Harry a mug of tea.

"Thanks," Harry sipped from the mug and sat at the table. "So… When are we leaving?"

Remus glanced at his watch, "In about an hour and a half. Eat something."

Sirius laughed again, "Watch it, Moony, you sound like a parent."

Remus just gave Sirius a look that seemed to say, "And what if I do?"

* * *

"Quit worrying about it, Dad. Harry's cool."

"But this is _Harry Potter_, Ron. I know you've been trading letters with him, but he's still _famous._ What if I disappoint him?"

Hermione shook her head, grinning. She knew Ron's tendency to worry had to have come from somewhere… "Mr. Weasley, _please_. Quit worrying. Harry's not like that. If anything, he's probably more worried about meeting with you than you are about meeting him."

"It's just that so few people have met him…"

"Mr. Weasley!" Hermione said, just as Ron exclaimed, "Dad!"

"Okay, okay. I'll worry quietly."

The three of them continued on the path towards Hogsmeade.

* * *

If the rumors were to be believed, Potter was going to be in Hogsmeade today, meeting with that insufferable know-it-all and her Weasley sidekick. If Snape hadn't been out of doxie eggs, he probably would have remained at the school, postponing what he felt he had to do until the next practical lesson with Potter.

Despite his sarcasm and inapproachable nature, he liked to think himself an honorable person. With all the haziness surrounding his loyalties during the fight against Voldemort, it wasn't so surprising that he would have ironclad ideals. It was his own business, though, so only one person knew where he stood. He felt a bit ashamed that he had managed to fall into the same trap that so many others had – he had judged someone based on their name, rather than their actions. He had sworn not to do so, he'd had it done to himself too much in the past, and had seen it happen too often to his Slytherins.

He was going to do something that went against his personality.

He was going to apologize.

* * *

Harry followed Remus and Sirius into the Three Broomsticks. Glancing around, he didn't see Ron and Hermione anywhere, so they took a table in the corner farthest from the door. After ordering a round of butterbeers, they didn't have long to wait before Hermione showed up, a tall red-headed man following her closely, with Ron on his heels.

Harry waived them over, "Hey, guys. Over here!"

"Harry, Remus." Hermione nodded to them both.

After a round of introductions, the Weasleys and Hermione sat. All six chatted of insignificant things for a while, and Ron told Harry and Sirius all about Pettigrew posing as Scabbers. "It's all right now, though. I mean, you're not in Azkaban anymore, and I got this really nifty kneazle kitten. She's this golden-orange color and irritates Crookshanks to no end by pouncing his tail all the time."

"Crookshanks?" Harry asked.

"My cat." Hermione supplied.

They continued to chat, and after an hour or so, it was apparent that Mr. Weasley's worrying of earlier was completely misplaced. "Hermione and Ron told me you're working on a way to make ekeltronics work in magical areas?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, though I'm focusing on computers at this point."

"What's a computer?"

Three hours later, after much elaboration on computers and electricity, Harry and Arthur were on a first-name basis and even Hermione was a little lost in following some of the technical side of things. Though Arthur didn't know the actual names of the pieces Harry was talking about, Harry described them and before long, Arthur's vocabulary regarding electronics and circuitry were much-improved.

After watching Harry and Arthur bounce ideas back and forth for twenty minutes, Sirius leaned over to Remus, "Are you following any of this?"

Remus shook his head, "Not in the slightest. What about you, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head, "A little, but… I almost hate to admit it, but they rapidly got away from the little I know about the topic. Is Harry planning on majoring in physics, Remus?"

Remus shrugged, "To be honest, I'm not sure. I know he's planning on going to uni, and that he's relieved he doesn't have to major in art, but I don't know what else he has planned at this point."

Ron was staring at the table, wondering if they were going to just sit around all day, listening with half an ear towards both conversations at the table. He should have known better than to introduce his muggle-obsessed father to a muggle-raised wizard. Add to that the fact that said wizard was Harry Potter… Ron sighed. Just as he was about to interrupt both conversations, a voice that haunted his nightmares broke into the conversations. Ron's head shot up to see his potions professor looming over the table.

"Excuse the interruption, Arthur. I need to borrow Potter for a moment."

Ron shook his head, he obviously had something in his ears. He could have sworn Snape had said something that bordered on polite. To his father, nonetheless.

"Good afternoon, Severus." Arthur motioned to the only empty chair remaining at the table. "Care to join us?"

Snape shook his head, "No, I can't stay long." He turned to face Harry, "Potter, if you would?"

Harry stood, "Be back in a minute, all." He missed the look of utter fury on Sirius' face as he followed the potions master.

"Down, Padfoot." Remus whispered, one hand on Sirius' arm. "Snape is teaching Harry potions. I'm sure it's not serious."

Sirius missed the opportunity to pun on his name, "It's _Snivellus_, Moony," Sirius growled.

"And we're no longer in fifth year, Sirius. We both may have reason not to like the man, but he's been… reasonably respectful each time I've seen him work with Harry. He's even helped Harry with a computer program on potions."

"He's still Snape, though."

"And if he ever hurts Harry, we'll both be there to rend him limb from limb."

* * *

Harry followed the professor to an out of the way corner of the tavern. "What did you need, Professor?"

Snape took a breath, "It has been brought to my attention that I was… Mistaken about your… muggle family."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "What have the Dursleys got to do with this?"

"I had assumed, simply because of your name, Potter, that you…"

Harry started laughing. "Stop. You don't have to apologize. _Everyone_ makes assumptions. So you were wrong, so what? You know better now."

"It was still inexcusable to assume you and your father were the same."

Harry shrugged, "Like I said, don't worry about it. It didn't hurt anyone and, to be honest, it didn't matter."

Deciding to drop the topic, and relieved that he didn't actually have to say any more, Severus changed the subject. "I realise your muggle school is nearing the end of its term?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"In that case, I believe we should postpone the next lesson until after winter holidays have started for both of us."

"Sounds fine. So, I'll see you on the twenty-seventh?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Good to see you, Professor." Harry nodded to the man and headed back to his table. He arrived to overhear all five of them debating on Harry's potential house. Sirius was still arguing for Gryffindor, Hermione, Ron, and Remus were arguing for Ravenclaw, and Arthur was mediating. Harry sighed.

"Is it really that big a deal what house I would have been?"

The entire table fell silent and looked towards Harry with sheepish expressions. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry slid into his chair. "I'm really getting sick of this argument, as I'm sure Sirius and Remus could attest. Is there any way to end it, once-and-for-all?"

Remus grinned, "We could always take you up to the school. I'm sure Albus would allow us to borrow the Sorting Hat."

"Anything to end this."

* * *

The sextet stood before the gargoyle to the headmaster's office. "Anyone know the password?" Sirius asked.

Hermione nodded, "Licorice wand." Hey, there _are_ benefits to being Head Girl.

The gargoyle moved aside and they rode the spiraling staircase upwards. Hermione knocked on the door, which opened to show Snape and Dumbledore. "Miss Granger," Albus smiled, "What can I do for you?" He glanced behind her, "Correction. How can I help all of you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed towards the headmaster, much as his godfather's had when Snape was spotted. "We're here to end a rather irritating argument, _sir_." Harry's emphasis on the last word stripped it of any semblance of respect.

The old man just twinkled and offered a tin of sweets. "And what argument is that?"

Remus accepted a pepper imp, as did Arthur and Ron, "Harry's a bit… exasperated that Remus and I keep debating what House Harry would have been in." Remus relayed the tale that ended in Harry _silencio_-ing both he and Sirius. "Would it be possible to borrow the Sorting Hat for a moment?"

Albus nodded, noticing that Severus had remained in the office. He knew the potions professor was curious as well. "Certainly, Remus." He walked over to the shelf where the hat was stored when not in use.

Harry was urged to take a seat and before he could ask how the hat worked, it was plunked on his head. "Wha-? Oh, good day, Mr. Potter. I had expected to meet you sooner." Harry heard a strange voice in his head.

"What?" Harry almost shouted.

"Calm down, Mr. Potter. I'm the Sorting Hat. You can just think in my direction. There's no need to deafen your fellows."

_So… What are you doing?_ Harry felt the slightly disturbing sensation of fingers riffling through his thoughts.

"Merely seeing what house you'd be best suited for. Though I am aware you are not a student of the school, it may be beneficial to know your house. If you ever taught here, we would need to know your house so that you could be a Head of House, or a stand in for one of the existing Heads."

_Just how do you determine a person's house?_

"I see inside their minds." Harry felt a rush of alarm at that admission. "No need to worry, Mr. Potter. I've seen more disturbing minds than yours, as well as other things. I do admit you are somewhat hard to place."

_How so?_

"Well… You've got a natural flare for learning and being able to use that knowledge. That would indicate Ravenclaw. However, you're unafraid of standing up for your beliefs, which would lend itself to Gryffindor. You've no small amount of cunning, as well. I applaud you on your plan to rid yourself of your former guardians. That would indicate Slytherin."

_Aren't there four houses?_

"I'm getting to that, Mr. Potter. The main unifying theme I'm seeing here, though, is an unwavering loyalty to your self."

'_This above all else; to thine own self be true.'_

"Ah, Shakespeare. Fascinating mind, did you know he was a Ravenclaw? He was also suited for Gryffindor, but I felt the quiet of the Ravenclaw common room would have been more beneficial to his writing."

_Are you going to get to the point?_

A sense of laughter echoed in Harry's head. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Though I think you would do equally well in any of our Houses, you are most suited for…"

The rip in the brim opened and the others in the room held their breath.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

* * *

**A/N2:** There y'all go. I hope it's up to snuff. I also hope it's clear enough why this version of Harry's a Hufflepuff. The next chapter should only take a couple of days.

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	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** They're not mine. I just take them out to play every now and then.

**A/N:** Ya know, I'm beginning to think that mere virtual baked goods aren't enough to thank everyone for their support of this fic. Methinks a full twelve-course meal of all your favorites ought to cover it. (As to my favorites, well… They include tomato soup, grilled cheese, Oreos, and a glass of milk. What can I say? I'm a simple kind of girl.)

This chapter covers everyone's reactions to Harry's sorting, including a lengthy conversation between Dumbledore and the Sorting Hat. There's also some conversation between Arthur and Harry at the end.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Reasoning, Reckoning, and Remembering**

Sirius was standing, staring blankly out his living room window at the softly falling snow. "Hufflepuff? _Hufflepuff?_" He shook his head, wondering for the first time if maybe it wasn't time to retire the Sorting Hat and find a better way to split the students up.

His floo flared, and Remus stepped up behind him. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sirius nodded, "I think so. Just how the _hell_ is Harry a Hufflepuff?"

Remus grinned, "At least it's alliterative." He clasped Sirius' shoulder. "Tea?"

"Eh, why not?" The two of them made for the kitchen. After tea was brewed, poured, and doctored to their specifications – Remus' unsweetened with a touch of lemon, Sirius' more sugar and milk than tea – Sirius cleared his throat. "I've been meaning to ask, Moony, you taught the Weasley boy for an entire year… How come you didn't smell out Wormtail when you were teaching?"

Remus cast his memory back to his year as DADA professor. "To be honest, I didn't have much close contact with any of the students. At the time, Ron had a tendency to sit with one of his dorm-mates in the back of the class. There were enough people around that the scent was drowned out… Rather like trying to find the smell of a single rose in the whole of a flower shop."

"The entire time you were there, you didn't have a single one-on-one session with him?"

Remus shook his head and sipped his tea. "There was no need. He was a good enough student, so he didn't need tutoring. He was also not top-of-the-class, so I rarely called him for demonstrations. The few times I should have been close enough to smell that rat, it was coincidentally far enough from the full moon that my senses weren't at their best. I do recall a time or two that I _thought_ I might have smelled something… familiar, but I chalked it up to an overactive imagination. It wasn't until I was around Harry that my mind made the link between that scent and Peter."

Sirius was quiet for a while then shook his head, "_Hufflepuff?_"

* * *

Snape was in the middle of restocking the infirmary's supplies. Simple work, he did it just to keep his hands busy while he thought. He could brew Pepper-Up and Skele-Gro in his sleep. In fact, he may have once or twice. As his hands diced, crushed, measured, and stirred, his thoughts kept chasing themselves through his head.

_A Potter in Hufflepuff? Which gods were asleep _this_ time? There hasn't been a Potter in any house but Gryffindor in over a hundred years… Severus, look at it logically. The boy is intelligent, but that is obviously not what drives him, so Ravenclaw isn't a perfect fit. He's observant enough for Slytherin, yet he doesn't have that all-consuming ambition that would make Slytherin a good choice. That leaves Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Of the two, Gryffindor makes even less sense than Slytherin. Though I'm certain he wouldn't hesitate to stand up for his beliefs, he lacks the impetuousness that defines a Gryffindor. His reluctance to do any practical potions work is proof enough of that. The only remaining House is Hufflepuff. They do tend to get the leftovers, don't they?_

He removed the cauldron of Skele-Gro from the fire and added the last ingredient, watching as it turned clear. Once it cooled, he split it into the proper jars, satisfied with both the potion and that he'd reasoned his way to the answer as to why Potter was in Hufflepuff.

* * *

Albus sat in his office, sucking idly on a lemon drop. As much as he tried, he was unable to reason out why the Sorting Hat had placed Harry in Hufflepuff. The logic was beyond his grasp. He shook his head and crossed the room to the shelf where the Hat was stored. He carried it back to his desk and replaced his own mauve-and-orange hat with the Sorting hat.

"Good afternoon, Albus. What can I do for you?"

Albus sent a mental picture of Harry in a Hufflepuff uniform, a giant question mark superimposed over it.

"Ah… I should have known. You want to hear my reasoning, eh?"

_Of course. You know his importance… It's not where I would have placed him._

"Hmm… But you're not enchanted to know the entirety of the list of qualifications for each House, are you? No matter. He is definitely a Hufflepuff, though, as I told him, he is well-suited to any House."

_I can see how that argument could be made. But if you would elucidate..._

"You know Hufflepuff as the 'loyal and hardworking' House. It's rather more complicated than that, and if you would think on it, I'm sure you could reason out precisely what Helga was looking for."

_Humor an old man. I've been working on this since you announced Harry as one of Helga's Badgers yesterday. I can't get it to make sense._

"I see. Your only interactions with the boy were when he was less than at his best."

_Are you going to tell me or not?_ Albus was rapidly losing patience with the Hat. This was only the third time he had the dubious pleasure of conversing with the Hat. He had forgotten how… less than direct it could be.

"Patience is a virtue, Albus. I recall I had told you something similar at your own sorting. However, if you insist…"

_I do._

"Very well. Harry Potter is a Hufflepuff."

_You've said that already._

"Patience, Albus. Patience." The Hat chided. "Harry's a hard worker. No matter what area of his life, he works to the best of his capacity – as long as it is safe for him to do so."

_Safe for him to do so? What do you mean?_

"Simply that if the situation is such that he can work to the best of his ability, he will do so."

_What makes you say that?_

"He has memories of his relatives being rather… snippy with him when he and his cousin were small. They had received their first marks at school and Harry's were significantly higher than his cousin's. After that, Harry worked to the best of his ability that was _safe_, which meant making sure his cousin's grades were higher than his own."

Albus sighed. He really needed to figure out a way to apologize to Harry. His decision to leave Harry with the Dursleys was quite probably the _worst_ mistake he had ever made. The Hat sensed his guilt, "Don't worry overmuch about it, Albus. It's what made him who he is today. If I may continue?"

_Please do._

"Since his cousin started at a different school, it has been easier for him to work to the best of his own ability. Not only in schoolwork, though, does Mr. Potter possess this trait. When doing chores, his aunt would regularly look for the slightest mistake in order to further punish the boy. This simply reinforced the trait and made Harry apply it to all areas of his life. Whether polishing floors, trimming hedges, filing paperwork, or preparing a meal, he never does less than his personal best."

_Interesting… I suppose it could make for a convincing argument in the Nature vs. Nurture debate…_

"That it could, Albus, but I am not done, yet. So, we see that Harry is hardworking. What is the other aspect commonly known about Hufflepuffs? That they're loyal. I can say with certainty that you will likely never meet someone more loyal than Harry Potter. Loyalty is more than just standing by your friends, though. Most people tend to forget that loyalty to oneself is as important, if not more so, than loyalty to an outside force."

_I had thought loyalty to oneself was more a Slytherin trait…_

"You couldn't be more wrong, Albus. Loyalty rarely figures in a Slytherin's reckoning. Name a single Slytherin that would remain true to their ideals when presented with the opportunity to make their ambitions true?"

_Severus Snape._

"Ah… Your potions master. Would you be disappointed if I mentioned that he would not be working for you if he had not seen the lies of Voldemort for what they were?"

Dumbledore sent an exclamation-point of surprise towards the Hat. _I was unaware you were as aware of the outside world as you are._

"I _am_ more than a simple hat, Albus. If you would pay attention to my start-of-term song, you would _know_ that. But, we're getting off-topic. Believe me when I say that loyalty – no matter the form – is _not_ a Slytherin trait. Sometimes, you might find a Slytherin with enough internal Hufflepuff to have a strong sense of loyalty, but it's _not_ common. Back to Mr. Potter, though. He is _highly_ loyal. Did you realize, even after all his relatives had done to him, he was still reluctant to see them punished?"

_No, I didn't know that. Nymphadora and Remus didn't mention anything._

"I'm sure if you asked, Remus would be able to confirm it. More than loyalty to even his relatives, he has a highly developed sense of loyalty to himself. I'm certain that, should you ask him, even he would be hard-pressed to put his belief system into words. It is very unique, though, drawing on principles from Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity, and Neo-Paganism."

_Interesting. I must see about a theological conversation with him at some point._

"It's not purely theological, though, Albus. In that arena, he's more agnostic than anything. It's more how he lives his life. He believes in an underlying balance in all things, that for every bad thing that happens, something good happens to balance it. You should be happy about _that_, at least. Though he doesn't yet see it as such, he is the balance to Voldemort's evil."

_Comforting. Continue, please._

"It is rather comforting, isn't it? In any case, we're now down to the less well-known criteria of Helga's. Cast your mind back to the study of animal symbolism in Ancient Runes. What does the Badger represent?"

_It's been a while since I was in Ancient Runes…_

"The memory is still there, Albus."

It took a few minutes for Dumbledore to track down the memory. He had a feeling that the Hat was helping to pull the long-forgotten memory out of storage. He was a sixth-year student at the time, and the class had been studying the history of Druidic writing, starting with animal symbolism. When the memory cleared, Albus was certain the Hat had done something to make him able to recall the text on Badger symbolism. Though he had a good memory, Albus knew it was _not _photographic.

'_**The Badger (Broc) - **The badger is a member of the weasel family. They range is length from two to three feet and are about twelve inches high. Family members often mark each other with scent for recognition since their sight is poor. Their senses of smell and hearing, however, are excellent. Those with this medicine would do well in professions that incorporate sound as a healing tool. On a personal note, badger medicine people need to develop clear sight, both psychically and physically and not just rely on their other senses for survival. _

'_Badgers have solid muscular bodies. Its outer skin is loose which gives it a deceiving appearance, because of this it is often associated with illusion. What you see is not always what you get! Its strong powerful jaws represent discrimination of speech; words can cut, tear, and crush or encourage, teach, and compliment others. Those with this medicine have the ability to do both. _

'_Badger dens are extremely clean and well organized. They change their bedding often, backing into their dens with straw, so as not to make a mess in the process. Fastidious about their surroundings they will correct any disorder quickly. _

'_The badger brings the gift of tidiness and organization. If badger has come to you in some way it may be saying that you need to concentrate on maintaining an orderly environment to better facilitate your day-to-day living. It can also teach you how to manage your time more efficiently. _

'_Badgers will fight to their death if cornered. Bold and ferocious they are unsociable animals. Those with this medicine have difficulty relating to others. They will shun authority and stand their ground in any situation. Expressing themselves in a concise balanced way is one of their greatest challenges. _

'_The badger is a remarkable digger and can get beneath the surface easily. This ability ties the badger to the mysteries of the underworld, where the magic of life and creation is stored. It also symbolizes a strong connection to plant and animal spirits and can teach those with this totem how to align with life both above ground and below it.'_

"Do you see why the boy is a Hufflepuff, now, Albus? It's obvious when you know what to look for."

Albus nodded, suddenly more at ease with the Hat's decision. _Thank you for clarifying this little issue. It certainly sets my mind at rest._

"You should know better than to question my decisions, Albus."

_It wasn't that I was questioning your decision, it was more that I couldn't connect the decision to the boy I met._ _Thank you, again, friend._

"Anytime, Albus. Anytime."

* * *

Hermione and Ron were probably the least surprised of anyone concerning Harry's sorting. They had both taken Ancient Runes the year before and were aware of the symbolism of the badger, and both knew enough to realize they didn't know everything about Harry, and so could accept the decision without any fanfare. Well, not _much_ fanfare, at least.

Ron was snickering into his NEWT potions guide.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, looking up from her essay.

"Just that _Harry Potter_, of all people, is a _Hufflepuff_."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "I know wizardkind has Harry painted to be this great hero and all, but why is it so unbelievable that he's a Hufflepuff?"

Ron smiled, "Come on, 'Mione. He's _Harry Potter_. Defeater of You-Know-Who."

"Four words, Ron: Cedric Diggory, Tri-Wizard Champion."

Ron's smile disappeared and he looked pensive for a moment, "I guess you're right, Hermione…"

* * *

Unaware of the confusion that surfaced due to his sorting, Harry was spending Sunday with Arthur Weasley, going over the Wireless schematics at the Kellerman home. Harry covered bringing Arthur up to speed on the realities of electricity, and Arthur was busy explaining how magic interacted with technology. After a couple of hours, the two took a break.

"You're a lot better with technology than I would have assumed," Harry mentioned over tea and biscuits. "I was under the impression that wizards avoided muggle stuff."

Arthur nodded, "That is true, but I have always been fascinated with muggles. Ever since I learned that there were people that had to function without magic. It was such an alien concept… I took Muggle Studies at the first opportunity. Ever since then, I've wondered why we – wizards, that is – don't embrace more technology. There are things that science can do that _we_ can't, and vice-versa. The two are not mutually exclusive, in fact, with the proper research, I'm sure they would complement each other quite well."

Harry nodded, nibbling on a chocolate-covered biscuit. "I think so, too. Why hasn't there been more research in this area?"

Arthur sighed, "It has to do with history. Wizardkind has been so persecuted by muggles in the past, that we – as a whole, of course – are reluctant to mingle with muggles. The Dark Ages, the Salem trials in the US; history is full of these unfortunate tales. In most of the older pureblooded families, it gets taken to the extreme. Muggles are seen as little more than animals, and less useful than even sheep."

"Sounds horrible. However, I don't think that modern muggles would have that much of a problem with it."

Arthur shook his head, "I have to disagree, Harry. Religious fanaticism is still rampant."

"But it's there, even against other muggles. It will _always_ be there. Much like there will always be people that think that a different skin tone is bad, or a different view as to how the universe is run. It's something that has to be lived with, not avoided." Harry poured another cup of tea, wondering momentarily where Jennifer had disappeared to. He shook his head to dispel the random thought. "Modern science is getting very close to discovering magic, Arthur. In researching our little project upstairs, I came across numerous articles that show how technology is advancing to the point where it can detect magic, though the scientists don't call it that."

"Are they really?" Arthur asked, interest apparent on his face. "How remarkable."

"That they are, Arthur, and it begs the question of how the wizarding world is going to react _when_, not _if_, they are exposed to the muggle world for what they are."

Arthur shivered a little, "It could either bring a long-lasting understanding between us, or cause another Dark Age."

"Precisely. All that remains is how to ensure the former and not the latter."

"I take it you have some ideas on this, as well?" he smiled. "You seem to have ideas on everything else."

"Nothing concrete just yet. Just some vague ideas. On a slightly related note, I've been wondering why you don't work with technology full-time?"

Arthur shrugged, "It's a hobby, Harry. I don't have the money to devote my full attention to it. Though, I do work in the department at the Ministry that most closely resembles my… How do the kids put it? Ah, yes. 'My obsession.'"

Harry chewed his bottom lip. "Arthur, if you had the money, would you want to work with technology all the time? Could you?"

Arthur laughed, "I would like nothing more, Harry."

Harry nodded, his idea was looking more and more plausible. "Hypothetically speaking, if a company that was working towards the merging of muggle technology and magic offered you a position, would you take it?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Hmm…" Harry's mind wandered off on a tangent.

"I know that look. Just what are you pondering, now?" Jennifer asked, emerging from the hallway that led to the den.

"Huh?" Harry looked up, "Oh, hi, Jenn. Not much, just organizing a revolution of sorts."

Jennifer shrugged, "So long as your homework's done first." She earned a strange look from Arthur. "What?"

"A revolution? Homework?"

Jennifer smiled, "Everyone needs a hobby. As long as his work's done, who am I to argue?"

Arthur laughed, "I suppose that makes sense. But that begs the question, Harry, _what_ revolution?"

Harry grinned, "Oh, just merging the wizarding world and the muggle one. Nothing serious, really. By the way, you've just been hired."

Harry probably should have waited until Arthur had swallowed his mouthful of tea. "_What_?"

Casting a quick cleaning charm, Harry repeated, "You're hired. We'll probably need to talk to Remus and Gringotts, too, but that shouldn't take too awfully long."

"Hon, I think you need to clarify your idea, Arthur doesn't seem to be as used to your style of thinking as I am." Jennifer chuckled, gesturing in the direction of a gobsmacked Arthur Weasley.

"Well, it's like this: Science is progressing at an astonishing rate, yeah? Why not help it along a bit? I was thinking on getting together a group of people like yourself, Arthur, and maybe some select muggle scientists, to further that research we were talking about."

Arthur let out a low whistle. "Damn, Harry. And I suppose this group would be highly visible? To both the wizarding world and the muggles? I suppose that's _one_ way to bring magic to light."

"Just a suggestion, though, Harry. Before you get too involved in this planning, you should probably talk with Andie Tonks and find out the legal aspect of what you're planning on doing." Jennifer helped herself to a biscuit.

Harry nodded, "Of course. I've never run a business before. I should probably talk with Allen about that aspect of it, too."

Arthur felt a little trickle of gooseflesh creep up his spine. Despite the somewhat hazy situation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Order, the Ministry, and everything else that entailed, he knew he was watching history in the making. _Albus may have hinted at Harry's destiny concerning You-Know-Who, but I think that even he doesn't realize just what Harry's capable of. He's going to turn the world on its ear, and smile while doing so. Just goes to prove that though Ravenclaws know how things should be changed, Gryffindors know why things should be changed, and Slytherins want to change things (or not,) it's truly those who are willing to _work_ for it that change the world._

* * *

**A/N2:** Quote on Badgers taken from www (dot) sayahda (dot) com (slash) cycle (dot) htm. Interesting little factoid: I didn't know the symbolism on Badgers until I checked this website just today (Friday, June 30, 2006.) Don't you just love serendipity?

This chapter was going to be longer, but the logical end showed up before I had the chance to include everything I wanted to. I hope this further clarifies both the questions I've had concerning Harry's sorting and just why Remus took so long to recognize Peter's scent.

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	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Le sigh.

**A/N:** I had to scrape my jaw up off the keyboard when I saw over 500 reviews. Y'all all rock! If I could, you would all have cookies and other sweets on me.

Herein we catch another glimpse of everyone's favorite bad girl, Christmas break, fun with muggles, and ringing in 1998.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Happy New Year**

Scraping rock and dirt was a long process, particularly when the only tools available were chunks of that same rock and her own fingernails. But, there _is_ something to be said for sheer determination. At twenty minutes past midnight, the morning of Tuesday, December 16, 1997, she broke through the surface of the cliff.

Hours upon hours spent toiling in the dark, contending with rats, lice, and other assorted nastiness had paid off. The hole in the side of the cliff was barely large enough to accommodate a large house cat, but she didn't let _that _stop her. Unbeknownst to her, the weather was clear for the first time in almost a full two weeks. . The air was clean, cold, and smelt only of salt spray with the faint undertone of seaweed. A clear sky, spangled with stars and sporting a moon just past full shone down on calm, icy seas. The Aurora Borealis was bright in hues of red and green – tones of death and blood. She smiled at the sight

She was free. She was _free._ She was going to find her Master. May the gods have mercy on anyone stupid enough to get in her way, for she was _Free_.

She did the only thing she could think of; she wept.

* * *

Harry looked up from his history text to the television. He was sitting in the living room with Remus and Sirius; Remus was giving Sirius a crash-course in muggle technology.

"This just in; police have reported the escape of a highly dangerous criminal," the screen cut from the clean-cut reporter to a picture of a darkly beautiful woman with a hard glint in her eyes. "Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped from prison, where she had been held on counts including premeditated murder. This woman should be considered armed and highly dangerous. If you see her, we cannot stress this enough: Do _not_ approach her. Please call your local law enforcement or the toll-free hotline now being displayed at the bottom of the screen. Again, this just in; police have reported the escape of one Bellatrix Lestrange, armed and highly dangerous. If seen, please call the number on the screen."

There was a growling noise coming from Sirius' direction. It took Harry a moment to realize that his godfather seemed to be cursing in several languages. "What's wrong, Sirius?"

"That… That…" He growled again.

"Calm down, Padfoot." Remus softly said. "She's his cousin."

"Who? That Lestrange woman?" Harry asked.

Remus nodded. "And if she's escaped… There's only one place she's going."

Harry frowned, "I take it she _wasn't _wrongfully imprisoned, then? And she's a supporter of that Vol-de-whozits?"

Harry's off-the-cuff mangling of Voldemort's name startled Sirius into a laugh. It died quickly, though, and he became – pardon the expression – suddenly serious. "That she is. Blasted Death Eaters…"

"Death Eaters?"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I thought I had explained. Death Eaters are the name by which Voldemort's supporters call themselves. If she's escaped, then her only destination will be Voldemort's side."

Harry thought for a moment before replying. "If she's a Death Eater, then wouldn't she be a bit… upset with me?"

Sirius nodded, "That she would, however, if I know my cousin – and I'm sure I do – then she wouldn't be coming by here until she has the chance to make sure going after you would agree with You-Know-Who's plans."

Harry sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. "Just _what_ have I gotten myself into here?"

"Are you sure you want the answer to that right now, Harry?" Remus asked.

Harry shook his head, "No… Not yet, but soon, Remus. Soon."

* * *

The following Saturday, Harry and Remus helped Allen hang the Christmas lights around the house. That evening was spent putting up a fake tree and drinking eggnog or spiced cider. "Why a fake tree?" Remus asked.

Jenn shrugged, "I don't see the point of killing a harmless tree just to use for decoration."

The decorations and cider had everyone in a festive mood. Allen took the time to unearth the piano in the corner – it had been buried under a surplus of bric-a-brac and other miscellany. The four of them traded carols until nearly ten o'clock.

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright, though it had snowed again during the night. Harry groaned at the intensely bright light streaming in through his window. _I knew I should have seen about getting a thicker curtain._ He pulled the pillow over his head and went back to sleep. He wasn't asleep long before Remus was knocking on his bedroom door. "Come on, Cub. Time to get up."

"G'way. Seepin'." Harry mumbled into the mattress.

He heard the door open, "Sorry, what was that?"

"Sleep. You go."

If Harry had not been buried in his bedding, he would have seen a rather frightening grin grace Remus' face. "But, it's Christmas, Harry. Time to get up and open presents and such."

"Later, sleep now."

Remus chuckled silently, removing his wand and pointing it at the pile of blankets where Harry was hiding. He whispered, "_Rictusempra._"

The pile of blankets quivered. Then twitched. Then erupted as a laughing Harry tumbled out of bed. Remus cancelled the charm. "Remus!"

Remus just grinned innocently, "Yes, Harry?"

"I was asleep!"

Remus nodded, "And now you're awake."

"You… you… ooh!"

"Come on, Cub. Breakfast's ready." He offered Harry a hand to help him off the floor.

Two hours later, after a full breakfast, Allen, Jennifer, Remus, and Harry were sitting near the tree, waiting on Sirius to show up. They didn't have long to wait before there was a knock on the door. Jenn answered and led Sirius to where everyone was waiting.

"Morning all."

"Morning Padfoot."

Remainder of the morning passed in a blur of wrapping paper, carols, no little amount of Jenn's special eggnog, and jokes and friendly teasing. Harry had a moment, early in the opening of gifts, where he couldn't believe how many of the presents under the tree were his, but then his brain kicked in and he remembered that he was no longer at the Dursleys. Despite the fun of the day, he was still looking forward to having Ron and Hermione come over the next day.

Included in his presents were more clothes, a couple of games, and some more art supplies. There were three gifts, though, that were complete surprises. Sirius got him a top-of-the-line racing broom – Jennifer had frowned at that, but wisely said nothing. Remus had told her about Sirius' flying motorbike, and she was just relieved he hadn't gotten Harry one of _those_. Remus shocked Harry with his father's pocket-watch. The final gift was from Dumbledore. Harry had been tempted not to open it, but curiosity got the better of him. A note sat on top of a pile of light, shimmery fabric.

_Mr. Potter –_

_Your father left this in my possession before he passed on. It was time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_-A. Dumbledore_

He picked up the fabric and shook it out. It appeared to be a cloak of sorts. "Moony, is that what I think it is?" Sirius was staring in awe at the cloak.

"It is, Padfoot." Remus replied.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his godfather and mentor. "What are you two on about?"

They exchanged a glance. "It's your dad's invisibility cloak, Harry." Sirius answered.

"Go on, Harry, put it on." Remus urged.

Harry spun the cloak around his shoulders. Jenn and Allen both gasped when Harry disappeared from view. "Um… This is rather… Odd. Isn't it?" Harry's disembodied voice said. "Can I take it off now? It's creepy not being able to see yourself."

"Please do, Harry," Jennifer said.

Harry took off the cloak and returned it to the pile of his presents, and then was treated to three hours of stories from Remus and Sirius about when they were in Hogwarts, using the cloak with his father to sneak around and play pranks.

* * *

"Harry!"

"Hermione! Good you could talk your parents into coming!" Harry greeted his witch friend.

"Morning, Harry."

"Morning, Ron." They nodded to each other. The three of them stood in the driveway for a moment. "Come on, guys, I'll show you where you'll be staying." Ron and Hermione grabbed their bags and followed Harry into the house. "Hermione, you'll be staying in Allen's den. The sofa there folds down into a bed. Ron, you'll be sleeping up in my room." He helped Hermione with her bags and reminded her as to the layout of the house, showing Ron around, as well. They stopped the tour in Harry's room, where Hermione hovered near the computer and Ron looked around the room.

Harry grinned at Hermione. "I take it you want to see the program, yeah?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Of course! I want to see what you've done with that book."

Ron was too busy examining the forest mural on the wall. _Hermione did say he was good at painting… But this is better than some of the paintings I've seen in Hogwarts!_ "You do this?" he asked.

Harry looked up from turning on his computer, "What? Oh, the mural. Yeah. It turned out a bit better than I expected."

"It's really good."

"Thanks. You want to see this program, too?" Harry asked, Hermione already ensconced in what was rapidly becoming her favorite learning aid.

"Program? Oh… That's right. Hermione did say something about you making up a study guide on that muggle thingy… What's it called? A Cornpudder?"

"_Computer_, Ron." Hermione corrected. Ron peered over her shoulder.

He was immediately entranced. Though, if asked, Ron would have denied it to the death, he was a bit more like his father than his mother was comfortable with. "So, that's a computer? It's a bit different than I realized." While Hermione perused the program, Harry took the time to explain the muggle technology to Ron.

"Kids! Lunchtime!" Jenn's voice floated up the stairs.

The rest of the day was spent mainly in answering Ron's questions about muggle life. Saturday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were invited over to Sirius' place for a round of Hide-and-Seek. Ron had been a bit skeptical about playing a kid's game, but Harry just said, "Don't worry so much, Ron. I'm sure you'll have fun." Harry was proved right, because at the end of the day, despite sporting green skin with yellow polka-dots and bright pink hair, Ron was laughing too hard at the others to stand straight. Hermione's hair had grown so long it was tying her to a chair, and Harry's was sprouting leaves. Sirius was worst off, though. Not only was his skin bright blue, and his hair a nauseating orange, but one of his arms kept trying to run away from him, and his eyes kept flashing between their normal gray and black-and-white zebra stripes.

On Sunday, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Sirius, and Remus met up with Tim, Mike, and Nigel at the Sugar Cube bowling alley. "Um… Harry? What are we doing here, again?"

Harry chuckled, "Bowling. And you two get to meet three of my muggle friends. Don't worry too much about talking about magic in front of them, though, they were there when Remus told Allen and Jennifer about me."

"Isn't that in violation of the Statute of Secrecy?" Ron asked.

"Nope. According to both Remus and Andie Tonks – my solicitor – the Ministry never actually defines a 'family.' These guys sort of adopted me as their little brother."

"Harry! Remus! Over here!" Tim shouted across the alley.

Harry waived back. "Come on. Let's not keep them waiting." The group with Harry wandered over to where the muggle group sat. "Hey all." Harry made introductions all around. "How are we splitting this up, guys?"

Nigel chewed on his lip a moment. "Well… I know how good the boys are, and I've played a time or two with Remus, as well, but what of you three?" He turned to Sirius, Ron, and Hermione.

Ron just shook his head, "Never played before, sir."

"Nonsense. Call me Nigel. And you?" he asked Hermione.

"A time or two. With my parents."

"Any good?"

Hermione laughed, "Not really."

Nigel nodded, "All right, then, you?"

Sirius shrugged, "I have no idea what this place is, let alone how to play."

With that said, Nigel split the group into two teams. Ron, Mike, Hermione, and Remus were on one team; Tim, Sirius, Harry, and himself were on the other. Of the six games they played that afternoon, Ron's team – who had dubbed themselves the 'Griffins' – beat Harry's team – dubbed the 'Knights' – three times, the Knights beat the Griffins twice, and the two teams tied the final game. Everyone had fun, and Sirius had either been lying about never having played before, or just had a natural flare for the game. Nigel brushed it off as 'beginner's luck'.

"Beginner's luck, my arse! I'm good!" Sirius taunted back.

"Good?" Remus questioned, "I thought you were serious."

Everyone but Sirius snickered. "You would think, that after twenty-some-odd years of knowing a person, they'd get tired of joking about your name."

"Oh, come on, Sirius. You do it, too." Harry said, turning in the rented shoes.

Sirius grinned, "I do at that, don't I?"

Monday saw the three teens down at Allen's shop – there'd been a nasty accident the week before, prompted by too much holiday cheer – and Ron and Hermione got to see what Harry had been doing with much of his time, prior to his reintroduction to magic. Hermione's natural curiosity about anything and everything ensured she wasn't bored. Though hidden well, Ron's Arthur-esque fascination with muggles surfaced, and as Harry was good at reading people, he made sure to keep a running commentary for his read-headed friend as he helped iron out crinkled metal, replace broken bits of engines, and clean away broken glass.

On Tuesday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to the cinema and spent the day pigging out on popcorn and candy, going from one movie to another at the multiplex.

Since Wednesday was New Year's Eve, they spent the day getting the Kellerman's house ready for their party that night. Remus, Sirius, Nigel, Tim, Mike, Beatrice, and the Tonks mother-daughter-duo were all invited, and allowed a guest or two. Beatrice's sister was going to watch Ashley for the night.

The party progressed well, Ted, Andie's husband, was highly amusing and rather good-natured about allowing his wife to dance with the unattached men in the room. Nigel had surprised everyone and shown up with a pretty Asian woman on his arm. He introduced her as, "Soo-Ryang, a business associate." Which Harry was pretty sure translated into, "I sold her some stuff and we went to the pub after. We're not dating, _yet_."

Tonks avoided the dance floor, managing to knock over no fewer than three glasses, two plates of finger-foods, a statuette of an elephant, the umbrella stand, a coat rack, and a coffee table in the process. Andie just shook her head, and set to helping put everything to rights. "With as clumsy as she is, I find it amazing that she's never broken a bone." Ted said in an aside to Harry. Harry had to chuckle in amazement.

Hermione took turns dancing with Ron, Harry, Mike, and Allen. Her parents, though invited, had gone to the yearly party held for dentists.

The hours passed in happiness and merrymaking until the clocks available indicated the new year was imminent. Glasses of champagne circulated amongst the crowd, and as a group they counted down. "Ten! Nine!"

Harry felt a sudden headache start. He sighed internally and mentally promised himself to locate a painkiller at the earliest opportunity. "Eight! Seven! Six!"

The headache spiked without warning, and Harry's scar began to itch and burn. "Five! Four! Three!"

Harry ran a hand over his scar, wondering if maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink that evening. "Two! One!"

In the shouts of "Happy New Year!" and the noise of crackers and noisemakers, no one noticed, nor heard, Harry's strangled scream as he slumped to the floor.

* * *

**A/N2:** Ducks thrown vegetables. Sorry for the cliffie, but it had to be done.

Reviews make me write faster.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** HP&Co belong to JKR&Co. Not me.

**A/N:** Fantastic. Support of the fic continues. I love this. Thanks to everyone who reads this and likes it, even if all of you don't review!

A peek into the mind of a madman, repercussions thereof, and some more Dumbledore/Harry interaction.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: The Plot Thickens**

Harry stood in a dusty, dirty, decrepit room. He could see where, once upon a time, the room had been grand and bordering on near-opulence, yet the remains of the room were just that, remains. The floorboards, once golden and polished to a high shine, were now grey and faded, covered in dust and cobwebs. Wall-paper curled in moldy strands, no longer covering the plaster behind it. The plaster, itself, was cracked and wooden lathing showed through, in places. The chair in which he sat smelled strongly of mildew and was impossible to tell what color it had once been. Not even multiple cleaning charms had helped. All-in-all, it was the absolute _last _place anyone would look for him.

It was cold in the room, he turned to a figure hiding in the shadows, "I presume it wouldn't be too much to ask for a fire?"

"Anything milord desires," the figure bowed and shifted. Without any preamble the room was filled with the rich golden glow of a merrily crackling fire. He felt a smug affection for his servant. She had never disappointed him, as so many of the others had.

"The muggle has been removed?" An echo of undying hatred for the caretaker of the house surfaced, though he didn't allow it reign.

"Yes, milord."

"And the others?" Disappointments or not, they were useful. He would need them in the months to come.

"None are aware of us, yet, milord. I trust you have a plan?"

Harry snorted, "Of course. What have I been able to do these last years _but_ plan?" Oh, how he approved of her quick mind, and _quicker_ reflexes.

The figure stepped out of the shadows, the firelight doing nothing to soften the harsh angles that comprised her face. There was still beauty in it, though; the beauty of madness, of genius. "If it pleases milord, will I learn this plan?"

Harry laughed, a high-pitched sound. The noise startled his companion, though she tried not to show it. He wasn't known for random bouts of merry-making, after all. He ruled through the power of fear, and he knew she feared him, even as she loved him. "You, my dear, are going to play a key role."

Just then, a door behind Harry slid open, seemingly by itself. "Milord's familiar has returned."

"Just thought you ought to know, Master, but there are a couple of nestlings in the hallway," a rather large snake hissed before curling up before the fire. Harry smiled at the snake, though others would be hard-pressed to find the expression on his face.

"What is it, milord?"

"Nagini informs me we have some uninvited guests, Bella. Won't you show them in for a… _proper_ greeting?"

Bellatrix grinned, the expression twisting her features into unrecognizability. "Certainly, milord." She strode to the door and flung it open, to reveal a boy of approximately sixteen and what appeared to be his girlfriend. "Won't you both join us, children?" The teens, quaking in fright, scurried into the room. Bella met Harry's eyes and smiled. Together, they raised their wands, "_Avada Kedavra_."

Bright, sickly green light flooded Harry's sight.

* * *

Harry gasped and sat up, wondering for a moment why he was on the sofa in the lounge, rather than in his own bed. Someone sat his glasses on his nose. Reaching up to adjust them, he saw Allen sitting in one of the armchairs, with Jennifer on his lap. Sirius was kneeling next to the sofa, and Remus was leaning over the back. "You alright, Cub?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah… What happened?"

"We were rather hoping you could tell us, Harry." Allen gave Jenn a quick hug as she stood. "Ron and Hermione are asleep. It's about four in the morning."

Harry took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I don't rightly know what happened. During the New Year's countdown, I got this headache that showed up out of nowhere, and then I was suddenly dreaming."

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus. Remus nodded, "What did you dream? You were muttering something, but none of us could quite catch it."

Harry closed his eyes and replayed the dream in his mind. "I was in this really old room. I think the house had been empty for a long time. There was someone else there that I didn't recognize at first," Harry continued to relay the dream.

When he was done, the room was dead silent. Remus rubbed a hand across his face, "Shite."

"I really think we ought to contact Dumbledore about this, Harry. I know you don't like the man, but… He _is_ one of the best minds out there." Sirius was reaching for his cloak.

Harry sighed, "I suppose. You reckon it wasn't a normal dream, then?"

Remus shook his head. "I don't quite know _what_ it was, Cub, but I doubt it was anything so mundane as a dream." He lifted his head to catch Sirius' eye. "You don't have to go back to your place to call the Headmaster. I've got a mirror in my room."

Sirius grinned. "I thought you swore to keep those a Marauder secret, Moony."

Remus chuckled, "Well… Considering the circumstances…"

"Don't worry, Moony. Where is it?"

"In the top drawer of the desk."

Sirius put his cloak back down, "All right, then. Be right back." He hurried out of the room and footsteps could be heard ascending the stairs.

"Harry?" Jenn asked. She looked more worried than Harry had ever seen her.

"Hmm?"

"This ever happen before?"

Harry shook his head. "No. And I hope it doesn't happen again. It was… Unsettling, to say the least."

"I can imagine so," Allen closed his eyes, in what Harry recognized as his 'thinking' pose.

Shortly thereafter, Sirius returned. "Albus said he'll be by in the morning. He feels there's no immediate danger, and recommends that we all get some sleep."

Jenn followed Allen to their room, even as Remus disappeared to his. Harry stayed sitting on the sofa. Sirius lingered in a dark corner of the room, "You really alright, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know, Sirius. This has never happened before. It was like I was a completely different person. With what you and Remus and Hermione – and Ron, to a lesser extent – have told me about when Mum and Dad died… The only conclusion I can come to is… Rather frightening."

Sirius stepped out of the shadows and sat next to Harry on the sofa. "What conclusion is that, Harry?"

"That, somehow, I was in Voldemort's head." Harry swallowed, hard, trying to get past the memory of unfamiliar thoughts, unfamiliar emotions. He shook his head, "I don't think I'll be getting any more sleep tonight, Sirius. You're welcome to my bed, if you want. I think I'll spend the time studying."

"If you're sure?"

Harry nodded. Sirius gave his godson a quick hug and went up to Harry's room. Harry turned off the few remaining lights and stood, staring out the front window for a while, thinking. _If… That really _was_ Voldemort… And I saw into his mind… Won't that mean he can see into mine, too? That could be potentially problematic. Right now, I know he won't find much of consequence, other than tentative plans for magical technology and information on post-modern painting styles, abstract sculpture techniques, and various principles and theories of quantum mechanics. However, I am sure that will change. Especially if that sense I got off him – that he was planning something really _big_ – is right. Although, this _could_ be my imagination running off with me, however I doubt that. He could also be toying with me; which, if I read him right, is something he definitely would try, if he thought it had the slightest chance of working. I wonder… Is there a way to keep him out of my head? Maybe a way to get into his without him noticing? I don't know if he was aware of me tonight, and if not, I don't want to do anything that would alert him to my presence… Wonder if Hermione would be angry with me if I woke her up?_ He glanced at his watch. _Hmm… Five o'clock. Maybe I ought to wait an hour. Or two. It was New Years' last night, after all, and I don't know how much she had to drink. Knowing her, though, it was likely just the one glass of champagne at midnight. Still… I don't want to cut in on her sleep any more than I have to…_ Harry sighed and decided to wait an hour before waking Hermione to talk with her. He sunk back onto the sofa, hoping to think a bit more, but fell asleep before twenty minutes had passed.

* * *

"Harry?"

He blinked open his eyes. A slightly blurry Hermione was smiling at him. He yawned and sat up, straightening his glasses. "Morning. What time is it?"

"Just after nine. Sirius and Remus are with Jenn and Allen in the kitchen. Ron's still asleep – I think he had too much to drink at the party last night. Headmaster Dumbledore just arrived, and sent me to wake you."

Harry scowled. "Fantastic. Just what I didn't want to deal with right now…"

Hermione wrinkled her forehead. "Why not? He's one of the foremost crusaders of Light, and if what Sirius said is true about you having dreams of Voldemort…"

Harry waived a hand to forestall the lecture he was sure was approaching, "Don't worry about it, Hermione. I just don't like the man, personally. I'm sure he's all you say and more. Doesn't mean I'm not allowed my opinions."

"Of course not, but… Harry, why _do_ you not like him? I mean-"

"One word, Hermione: Dursleys."

Hermione huffed. "I don't see what they have to do with anything."

Harry shook his head, "He's why I was left with them, Hermione. _Dumbledore_ is the one who decided I'd be best off raised by a bunch of bloody bastards that hated magic and hated me."

Hermione gasped and paled. "In that case, I suppose I can see why you're… Less than approving. However, Harry, do try not to let that get in the way of working with him. He probably knows more about Voldemort than any other living person."

"I know. I don't like it much, but I know. I'll be civil as long as he's staying out of my personal business. I'm not going to let him make any more decisions about my life."

"I don't blame you, but… Be nice."

Harry grinned, "Hermione. When am I _not_ nice?"

He hurried from the room before she could respond. He took a quick shower and changed into some clean clothes. Descending the stairs once more, he felt that all he now needed was a spot of breakfast and he'd be able to deal with anything – infuriating twinkling old men included.

"…disturbing, to say the least." Harry heard the tail-end of Remus' comment as he entered the kitchen. He opted not to question it, he could guess well enough what they were discussing. Jenn handed him a plate of bacon and eggs and toast, and he tucked into his meal.

By the time he finished, he was about ready to laugh. All conversation had stopped upon his entrance to the room, and hadn't picked up again. He had eaten in complete silence, knowing that the five adults in the room were watching him; Jenn and Allen with concern, Remus with a tinge of pity in his eyes, Dumbledore with frank curiosity, and Sirius was much like his godson – ready to burst out laughing at the absurdness of it all. Hermione was seemingly buried in a book, but every now and then, Harry noticed her watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Thanks, Jenn. That really hit the spot."

That seemed to be the signal for Sirius to break down chuckling. Jenn took the empty plate back and set to clearing the table while Remus whispered something to Sirius that only made the ex-con laugh harder. Allen shook his head. _Heaven help us, they're all barking mad._

"I understand, Mr. Potter, that you had a rather interesting dream last night?" Dumbledore reached into a pocket and withdrew a small tin of mints. Though he offered them to the others, no one but Hermione took one. Harry had to wonder if Hermione knew something about them that the others didn't.

Harry shook his head, "Not precisely a dream, per se. It didn't have the _feel_ of a dream." He relayed what he'd seen and experienced to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore nodded as the tale concluded. "I had feared something like this may have been a consequence of this," he gestured towards Harry's scar.

Harry counted to ten, silently, before asking, "And just when were you planning on sharing that information with me?"

"Harry!" Sirius admonished.

"No, Sirius, don't. I do apologize, Mr. Potter, but after meeting you the last time, I was uncertain as to when a good time to do so would present itself."

To everyone's surprise, Jenn spoke up. "Bollocks. You didn't much appreciate that Harry sees _you_ as the cause of so many years of trouble – not to mention the fact that he bloody called you on it – and, even if it didn't process as such, you wanted to get even with him!"

Jennifer was nearly shouting at the Headmaster. Allen grabbed her shoulder, "Hon, calm down. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt for right now. If he causes any more problems, _then_ you can verbally eviscerate him, but for now, let's hear what he has to say."

"Fine!" She crossed her arms and sat back down.

Harry shook his head and sighed. "I thought I had asked you to pass along any information regarding this issue. When no word showed, I had assumed you had nothing further to say."

"My apologies, Mr. Potter."

Harry arched an eyebrow, "Is there anything else I should know at this juncture? Or will you continue your less-than-spectacular track record thus far of making my decisions for me while keeping me in the dark and apologizing for it after it's all said and done?"

"Very well, Mr. Potter. If you insist-"

"I do."

"Then perhaps we should discuss this in a bit more privacy."

"I think not, old man. Anything about this whole situation can be discussed with anyone in this house. I'll not keep secrets from them, unless, of course, they're the fun kind."

"Fun kind?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. It's not much fun if you know your Christmas presents ahead of time, now is it?"

"Point taken." Dumbledore conjured some tea. "This may well take quite a while, Mr. Potter."

"It'll take as long as it takes and no longer." Harry was starting to get a bit aggravated with the Headmaster's dancing about the subject.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and began detailing what was known about Voldemort, beginning with what was commonly known and progressing through to some of the less known aspects of the Darkest wizard in an age. "And on that fateful Halloween night, Mr. Potter, I believe the combination of your mother's sacrifice and the killing curse rebounding caused some measure of Voldemort's talents to be… transplanted into you, causing a link with him, which is what caused your unfortunate vision of last night."

Hermione was taking notes. Harry wondered if she ever did anything without a notebook in her pocket. When Dumbledore made mention of the transfer of power, she frowned. "Harry?"

"What?"

"I seem to recall that you had written me once about a snake?"

It took Harry a couple of moments to remember the afternoon in his Physics classroom where he'd spoken with Angel. He nodded, "Yeah. Angel, the class pet in Physics. Albino ball-python. What about him?"

"Didn't you say you spoke with him?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, so?"

Dumbledore interrupted, "Another example of that power transference, Mr. Potter. The ability to speak with snakes is known as parseltongue. It is a very rare gift, indeed, found only in certain families. As the Potter line is not one of those, it is safe to assume the gift is one that you share with Voldemort."

"Why do I get the feeling that this 'gift' is seen as anything but in the wizarding world?" Harry asked when he saw both Remus and Sirius pale at the comment.

"It's considered to be the mark of a Dark wizard, Harry," Hermione supplied.

Harry snorted, "That it may be, but snakes are hardly brilliant conversationalists. Angel seems to have delusions of grandeur and an obsession for music from the sixties and seventies."

"A… snake… music… what?" Sirius looked a bit shell-shocked.

"He kept singing all these old Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel songs." Harry said.

Hermione snickered, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look before dissolving into laughter themselves. "Lemme guess… Was he singing 'Sounds of Silence?'" Remus asked.

Harry shook his head, "No, 'Feelin' Groovy.' Why's it matter?"

None of them could respond for a few minutes as they were laughing too hard. Even Dumbledore seemed amused at the snake's antics. Harry glared at all of them and cleared his throat. "_IF_ we may continue?"

"Certainly, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore glanced at a rather complicated pocket-watch. "It appears to be around one in the afternoon. Perhaps a spot of lunch is in order?"

Jenn nodded and made to stand, but Dumbledore waived her back to her seat. With a series of complicated-looking maneuvers with his wand, the table soon boasted a couple of platters of sandwiches, a carafe of coffee, fresh tea, a tureen of a thick vegetable soup, and a tray of doughnuts. Just then, the kitchen door opened, admitting a yawning Ron Weasley. "Morning all, what'd I miss?"

* * *

**A/N2:** A lot of what Harry learns from Dumbledore is the same as in the books, so I didn't include it as part of the conversation. I see no need to reiterate that which you should know from reading canon. Yes, I've read HBP, and I haven't decided yet if I want to do the whole horcrux-thing. This is why I left the chapter where I did, there's still half the day left and I don't know if y'all want to hear another horcrux story. So, please let me know if you want me to address that aspect or not.

Everyone loves reviews. Especially my mum. I kid you not, I think she's more eager to check my email for reviews than I am. It's actually kind of frightening.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** I seem to have acquired an overwhelmingly negative response to including the horcruxes, ergo; they won't be included. They didn't really fit in with my vision for this tale, anyway, but I'm glad that y'all could see that, too.

Dumbledore finishes the conversation, Jenn's brother, and a tidbit about the Kellerman family upcoming in this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Theories and a Phone Call**

Once Ron was caught up on the events of the previous night and that morning, and the sandwiches demolished, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I believe Mr. Potter had requested information regarding Voldemort. I don't believe we should keep him waiting."

Jennifer looked smug. _The old man seems to be getting the idea that we don't particularly like him. _She had to swallow down a snicker, _I'm sure it's a new experience for him._

Harry, however, merely nodded and motioned for Dumbledore to continue.

"Very well, you asked that I relay any information regarding Voldemort," Dumbledore sipped on a cup of tea, and Hermione flipped to a new page in her notebook. "I first met the boy who was to become Voldemort during the summer of 1938. Even then, he was a troubled boy who delighted in tormenting his tormentors. You see, he lived in a muggle orphanage…" He continued the rather depressing tale of Tom Riddle for quite some time. When he finally finished, all that remained of the tale was his previous downfall on Halloween of 1981. He didn't see the point in rehashing that part of the story, though, as they had already gone over it earlier that morning.

Hermione reread her notes while Allen and Jenn held a whispered conference across the room. Harry was just staring at the Headmaster as if the man had grown a third nose.

"Allen, I think it might be helpful to place a call to Chad," Jenn whispered in Allen's ear.

Allen shook his head, "Hon, I don't think your brother would be of much help in this."

"That's just because the two of you don't get along. Honestly, Al, I think we really could use his help."

"But, I thought that the old man there was our… connection into the mind of that Voldie-whatnot?"

Jenn scowled at her husband, "I don't trust him. I don't think he's a bad guy, that's not it, it's more that I get the sense that if he isn't cornered into giving away information, he won't do it."

"And what of today?"

"He's trying to make nice with Harry. He thinks he needs Harry in his little war, therefore he's trying – and failing, I might add – to get on Harry's good side. I don't believe for an instant that we're getting the whole story out of him."

Allen nodded, "I get the same feeling, but… Why _Chad_?"

"Because he's the best, and you _know_ I'm not exaggerating. We'll need someone who will be able to predict what the great idiot will do, and like I said, I don't fully trust the old man."

Allen sighed, defeated. _By now I ought to realize she's gonna get her way, come Hell or high water._ "Fine. You're calling him, though."

Jenn smirked. "I will, don't you worry. Let's see…" she glanced at the clock on the microwave. "It's two-thirty now, which means it's only nine-thirty there… I know he has an hour lunch at noon their time."

"So call him at five."

"That's what I was getting at."

While Jenn and Allen were arguing about calling her brother, Remus had raised the question, "Now, you've covered that You-Know-Who was a right nasty git from the time he was a small child, and you've covered that it was him that cursed the DADA job at Hogwarts, but what I want to know is what happened to him when he tried to curse Harry?"

Sirius nodded in agreement. Ron was doing his level best to ignore the whole conversation, eating a doughnut with such determination that it looked as if he were afraid that it was going to run away without him.

"As there were no witnesses, at least, none that came forward regarding that incident, all we really have are some theories on what happened. The MLE –"

"Pardon?" Harry interrupted.

"The Magical Law Enforcement, Harry," Ron supplied around a mouthful of custard-filled pastry. "Comparable to your… whatzits… Please-men."

"_Policemen_, Ron," Hermione corrected absently.

Harry nodded and motioned for Dumbledore to continue.

"As I was saying, the MLE found traces of four killing curses, multiple shielding charms and various other curses and hexes used in dueling. There was also residue from an ancient bit of protection magic. With the evidence that had been collected from the scene, I put together a pet theory, if you will. Harry, your mother was Head Girl during her seventh year at Hogwarts for a reason – among other talents, she was particularly skilled at charms. It is my opinion that she either discovered or mutated that protection magic that I told you about and used it to protect you from all harm. When she died to protect you, it strengthened those protections to the point where the killing curse was unable to harm you."

Jenn snickered, "And just how do you know that it _was_ a killing curse that he aimed at Harry?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "We don't know for certain, however it fits the evidence."

Allen spoke up, "And who was the other victim? You said that you believe no one else was there that night. You also said they found evidence of four killing curses. Harry's mum and dad are two of those, and if you're to be believed, Harry would have been the third. Who was the target of the fourth?"

Dumbledore blinked. The possibility that there had been someone else there that night hadn't occurred to him. He had assumed that James had likely ducked out of the way of the first attempt on his life, only to be struck by the second. Looking back on it, though, it made sense that there was another person there. And knowing how temperamental Tom Riddle was and is, it wasn't too far out of line to assume that the fourth person, whoever that person was, would have said or done something that angered Tom to the point he killed that other person before attempting to kill Harry. But, where was the body? If one assumed that there was someone else there that night, that Tom killed along with the Potters, then there had to have been another someone as well, someone to remove the body of that other person – the Dark Lord surely didn't do so.

"And what other evidence was gathered, sir? Is there any way we might be able to read the MLE reports from that night? Not meaning any disrespect, of course, but maybe we can catch something that others may have overlooked." Hermione looked up from her notes.

"There wasn't much other evidence to collect, Miss Granger. The house was in a shambles… It was pure good luck that we were able to locate as much information as we did. As far as seeing the reports… I don't believe it would be a good idea. Some of the included photographs are rather graphic."

"I think it would still be a good idea to look through it." Jenn said, agreeing with Hermione. Her tone of voice had the underlying steel in it that the Headmaster already knew meant trouble if he didn't give in.

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well. If you contact either Andromeda or Nymphadora Tonks, they should be able to get a copy of the file for you." Dumbledore stood, "And I must apologize, but it is getting late, and I must return to Hogwarts."

While the others were bidding the Headmaster goodbye, Jenn narrowed her eyes at the old man. Harry joined her. "Something occurred to him that he'd not thought of before."

"Caught that, did you?"

Jenn nodded, "Yeah. But he's not sharing… Wonder why he's so secretive?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno, but it's right irritating, isn't it?"

"Certainly is." Jenn sighed, "I'm going to call my brother Chad this evening. See if maybe he wants to help us out a bit."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, "Thought he hated Allen, and vice-versa."

"They do, but I think we could benefit from Chad's skills. Wouldn't hurt to have an inside peek into Voldy-whozit's mind."

Harry scoffed, "I thought I had that last night."

Jenn smacked his shoulder, "Not like that! You know what I meant."

"Ow! No, actually, I don't have a clue."

"Oh, sorry. Thought I told you about Chad a time or two."

"Yeah, but they were all stories about how he and Allen don't get along."

"He's a profiler. He's in the US with our parents right now, New York."

"He's a _what_?"

"A profiler. He works with the police to track down the bad guys. Basically, he knows how their minds work, and can use that knowledge to predict their actions."

"Sounds interesting."

Jennifer nodded, "It is, but he hardly ever talks about his work. I find it fascinating, but I can see where he's coming from."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Living it, then having _you_ question him about it?"

"Hey! I'm not that bad!"

Harry chuckled, "I guess not. If compared with the Spanish Inquisition, maybe."

"No one suspects the Spanish Inquisition!" Jenn laughed along with Harry. Allen just looked at them like they'd lost their minds.

* * *

Chad Thomas was having a completely boring, normal day. Though he was still paid for his time, he hadn't had to work on a case for a good two months. He was beginning to get bored. It had just turned noon, and he had been debating between going out for lunch or having one of the interns run for a sandwich or maybe some Chinese take-out when his phone rang.

"Chad Thomas speaking, if this is a telemarketer, please be aware this is a secured line and you risk prosecution by calling it."

He immediately recognized the laughter on the other end of the line. "Been having problems, brother-mine?"

"Jenn? Shit, girl. You sound British as ever. Doing well, I hope?" He reached into the top drawer of his desk for the pack of Lucky Strikes he kept there.

"Don't light that damn cigarette, Chad, and yeah, I'm doing okay. What've you been up to lately?"

Chad snickered, "Should I be scared that you seem to have developed the ability to see through phone lines?"

"No, I just know you, and though you may have told Mom and Dad that you quit last Thanksgiving, I know you hadn't. Aside from the smell in your car, I saw you sneak out after dinner was over with."

"Cest la vie, sis. Something tells me you didn't call me up to chat about turkey dinners past, though." He flicked a lighter and touched the flame to the cigarette.

"Well, you're partially right. I was wondering if you could take some of that vacation time you've got stockpiled and come visit me."

Chad snorted, then coughed as smoke exited his nose. "What? Visit Britain? Why?"

Jennifer sighed, "There's something going on here that would benefit from your… unique experiences."

"Official or private?" Chad was suddenly all-business.

"A bit of both, mainly the latter."

"Damn, you're being cryptic." He ground out the cigarette and grabbed a pen. "What sort of pay-scale are we talking here?"

"Hang on a second." There was some muffled whispering in the background. "The potential client is more than willing to cover any and all travel expenses to get you here to discuss it in person. If you decide not to take the job, he'll pay to send you home, too. Further compensation will be determined if you decide to work for him."

"Hmm… It has been rather quiet for the last couple of months… I could probably take a four-day weekend and no one would bat an eye. Hell, I haven't taken a vacation day since… Um… Ah, yeah, 1990. When Lori and I took Jesse to Las Vegas for her twenty-first." Chad blinked in surprise. "Damn… That means I've got twenty-four weeks of unused vacation time piled up. Tell ya what, Jenny, you get me a ticket out of LaGuardia for tonight, sometime around nine or ten, and I'll make sure my schedule is cleared for at least a week. I'll just let the boss think it's some sort of family emergency or something along those lines."

"Sounds like a plan. Call me back when you've got it all figured on your end, and I'll email you the voucher for the ticket."

"Sure thing. Talk to you later."

"Bye." The line went dead. Chad stared at the phone for a full minute, wondering just what he was getting himself into. He shrugged. He _was_ bored, and this would end the boredom, one way or another. Besides, if Lori were still alive, she'd be pushing him out the door before he could pack. Despite his difficulties with his brother-in-law, his late wife and his sister had always gotten along.

* * *

Jennifer hung up the phone and turned to Harry, "He's coming. We need to find a flight for him, though."

Harry grinned, "No problem. Come on, Jenn, let's get to work."

"You know, this does beg the question of where he's going to sleep."

Harry shrugged, "He's your family. I'd assumed he'd be staying here. Hermione and Ron left for home just after Dumbledore left. They still have a week of hols before they have to go back to school. The sofa in the den is still open, and if he's opposed to that, I can always sleep on the couch."

"Nonsense. I'm sure he won't mind. If he does, we can always make him stay at a hotel."

Harry chuckled, "If the animosity between him and Allen is as bad as you say, then he might want to."

Jenn giggled, looking for all the world like a schoolgirl. "It just might come to that, but I suppose we'd better get his ticket squared away, _and_ tell Allen that he's coming. Hmm… Strike that, we'll tell him after Chad gets here. Then he can't complain too long or loud."

"I was a little surprised you caught him in his office. I thought today being New Year's Day, that everything was closed." Harry held open the door to his room.

"That's true, but police stations never close, and my brother has always been the type to over-work. He's a bit like you. He can't stand sitting still, always needs to be doing something, even if it's just filing paperwork."

Harry turned on his computer, "Hey! I can too sit still!"

"I'll believe that if I ever see it."

* * *

While Jenn and Harry were making plans concerning Chad, Allen, Sirius, and Remus were sitting in the lounge. "Did either of you know any of what Dumbledore told us?"

Sirius shook his head, "Don't look at me. Most of that was completely new information. I know we – wizards in general, that is – assumed that You-Know-Who was pureblooded. You could have knocked me over with a feather when Dumbledore said he was only a half-blood."

Remus nodded in agreement. "I knew he'd cursed the DADA position, one of the things I did while teaching at Hogwarts was investigate the curse. It's permanent, by the way, it'll only break if its caster truly dies. It's one of the ways we have of verifying that He's still out there."

"One of the ways?" Allen asked.

"There are a couple of other things we've noticed, other spells cast that should have fully dissipated, had he actually died." Remus said.

Sirius growled something under his breath that Allen didn't quite catch. "Pardon?" Allen cocked his head towards Sirius.

Sirius shook his head, "Doesn't matter."

Allen sighed, "I think we ought to be fully honest about all you _do_ know. If Harry's going to be involved in this… Thing, then I think honesty is the least we can do for him."

"Meaning?"

"We need to know all that you know about the situation. Harry doesn't trust the old man, I don't blame him, Jenn and I don't, either. I'm sure he's holding out on us, but I don't know _what_ he's not telling."

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, then both nodded simultaneously. "We'll do what we can, where we can, but I don't know how much help it will be." Sirius spoke.

"Whatever knowledge there is can't hurt." Allen pressed.

"Very well, what we know – you'll know. I don't know how much will be useful, but, like Padfoot said, we'll do what we can, where we can."

"I suppose that's all anyone can reasonably expect or ask for."

Sirius suddenly straightened and snapped his fingers. "Damn! Finally placed it!"

"What's that, Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Oh, nothing important. I just finally placed Allen's accent. You're from the States, aren't you?"

Allen chuckled, a little disoriented at the change of topic, "Yeah, I am. Grew up in Boston. Jenn's father was in the military, though, and she was born here in England. London, specifically. She's got dual citizenship, so we live here."

Sirius looked smug, and Remus couldn't help but laugh at him.

* * *

**A/N2:** And that's where the chapter wanted to end. I hope that clears up a bit about the Kellermans, and I'm sorry about yet another OC, but the story demanded it. Remember to let me know if you liked this or not, and also if you have any ideas that you would like to see incorporated, let me know. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, unless you're counting the plot and some of the OC's.

**A/N:** Almost 650 reviews. I'm in shock every time I look. _Wipes off tear of joy._ You all rock!

Chad arrives in the UK, some conversation, Sirius and Snape snipe, Chad and Dumbledore talk, and a bit more of Voldie.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Stubborn? Yeah, just a bit.**

Harry decided he didn't like waiting. Especially when he was waiting in an area crowded with people, half of them not even British. He didn't mind foreigners as much as some – _cough, cough, Vernon Dursley_ – it was more that there were more people in Heathrow than he'd ever had to deal with outside of a school assembly. It went without saying that he stuck close to Remus and Jennifer. Chad was supposed to be here over an hour before, but he was delayed out of New York because of snow, and was now delayed on landing because of fog. Harry'd be angry at the weather, but what good would it do? He just wanted to go _home_.

"We're supposed to meet him here," Jennifer said, for the fifth time since they took a seat at the tea-stand.

For all that Remus was a wizard, Harry noticed he seemed more at ease in the airport than Jennifer did. "You've said that already, Jenn. He'll show up. Why don't you get yourself and Harry a scone?"

Jenn nodded, "Sounds good, you want anything?"

Remus shook his head, "Thanks, but no. Harry?"

Harry looked up from examining the table top. "Hmm?"

"You know you didn't have to come."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, but…"

Remus chuckled, "You're effectively hiring him, right? So you felt you needed to be here."

"Right."

"At least it's not four in the morning, yeah?"

Harry nodded and accepted the cup of tea and cream cheese Danish from Jennifer. "Yeah."

Jenn shivered melodramatically, "I can't imagine thirteen hours on an airplane."

"It was more like fifteen, sister-dear." Chad's voice sounded from right behind Jennifer.

Jennifer jumped, and whirled around. "Ooh! I hate it when you sneak up on me!"

Chad just grinned. He was a tall, broad man with salt-and-pepper hair, light blue eyes – just like Jenn's – and a rather imposing physical bearing. "I know, that's why I do it. You'd think that after a lifetime with me as your older brother, you'd get used to it." He reminded Harry of nothing so much as a friendly version of Professor Snape. Chad turned to Remus and Harry, "And who are these two? You finally get rid of the mechanic?"

Jenn glared, "No. Allen had to work. This is Remus Lupin," Chad shook Remus' hand, "and Harry Potter."

Chad smiled, "Jenny tells me you're the one looking to hire, but that can't be right. You're all of what? Fifteen?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow, "Seventeen, Mr. Thomas."

Chad shrugged, "Sorry. Jenny wasn't too forthcoming with the details on the phone. At the very least, I've managed to get a free trip here to visit her."

Remus and Harry exchanged a look, Harry shook his head. "Perhaps we ought to find some place a bit less crowded?"

"Sounds like an idea to me." Chad motioned for Remus and Harry to lead the way out of the building and to Jenn's car.

Chad and Jennifer talked mostly of family-related gossip while Remus and Harry sat in the back seat on the way home. "Do you think Sirius is finished getting everything set up?" Harry whispered.

Remus checked his watch, "It's been three hours, so I would think so. You nervous?"

"No, just a little… apprehensive. I know he's Jenn's brother, and that if he agrees to help, he'd be useful, but… I still don't like the thought of obliviation."

"I've never been too fond of that particular spell, either, Cub, but sometimes it's necessary."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Remus nodded and they went back to staring out the windows until Jenn stopped in the driveway of the Kellerman house.

"Still living in suburbia, Jenny?" Chad observed as he got out of the car.

"Shush it, you!" Jenn laughed and helped him with his bags. "It's been remodeled a bit since you were last here. You'll also be staying in the den, the other bedrooms are currently occupied."

"You wound me! Sleeping on a couch!" Chad laughed.

Sirius emerged from between the house and garage just then. "Hey all!" he called to Harry and Remus.

"Everything ready?" Remus asked when Sirius was closer.

Sirius nodded, "Of course! It'll be quite a show, I'm sure." He grinned at Harry. "How was the airport?"

"Crowded."

"And who is this, Jenny? And does the mechanic know about him?" Chad chuckled, "What must the neighbors think?"

Jenn huffed in exasperation, "Oh, pshaw on what the neighbors think. This is Sirius Black – he lives down the street. He's also Harry's godfather and one of Remus' friends."

"Pleasure to meet you," Sirius offered his hand.

Chad shook it. "Hang on a minute! I remember you!"

Sirius grimaced, "Shite," and turned to face Remus. "Am I going to keep running into this forever, Moony?"

Remus shrugged, "Don't know, Padfoot."

"Yeah, it was what… sixteen years ago or so? Something about a double-homicide…"

Harry sighed, "Don't think on it for now, Mr. Thomas. That, along with a few other things, will be explained. If you and Jenn would get your things inside, and then meet me, Sirius, and Remus in the backyard?"

"Sure thing, kid." Chad followed Jennifer into the house, whispering questions at her the entire time.

"Did you know that story made it across the pond?" Sirius asked Remus.

Remus shrugged, "No, I didn't, though it makes sense. No one knew where you were. I'm sure they contacted all the muggle liaison offices before you were caught."

Harry decided to interrupt them before the entire day had been debated away, "Come on, you two. Talk about it later, we've got work to do."

"Too right, Cub. Let's go inspect Padfoot's wards, yeah?"

About twenty minutes later, Harry and Remus were sitting on a long, narrow dueling platform that had been erected in the Kellerman's backyard. Sirius was pacing a trough in the snow. "Maybe you ought to duel with Sirius, Harry," Remus whispered.

Harry glanced at his godfather, "Maybe you're right. He looks like he could use the exercise. You're a touch better at explanations, anyway."

"Hey, Padfoot!" Sirius jumped. "Quit worrying and sit down. I'll take the explanations, _you_ duel Harry."

Sirius snickered, "You just want to see me get my arse handed to me."

Remus grinned, "Well… You could use the practice."

Before Sirius got the chance to retaliate, the back door opened and Chad and Jennifer emerged. "And what is this, Jenny?"

"Just sit down and watch, damnit. I keep telling you, if you'd take the time to hear me, that your questions will be answered with time. Now, sit!" Jenn looked like she was ready to slap Chad. Chad seemed to notice and immediately fell silent, taking a seat on a bench that, in summertime, overlooked Jenn's roses, but had been moved to face the platform.

Remus stood in the middle of the platform while Harry and Sirius took either end. "We're going to start off with a bit of an exhibition, then we'll move inside to talk things over. What you're about to see is… Rather difficult to describe, so all I'll say about it before we begin is that I ask you hold your questions until we're done." Remus jumped off the platform and stood behind Jenn and Chad. He withdrew his wand and said, "Padfoot, Cub, you may begin when the feather hits the stage." A scarlet feather was suddenly fluttering between the duelists.

Chad had just enough time to ask, "Hey, where'd the feather come from?" before he was stunned into silence by dual shouts.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Protego!_"

"_Rictusempra!_"

Harry ducked, "_Tarantallegra!_"

"Hey! No fair!" Sirius shouted, "_Finite! Petrificus totalus!_"

"_Protego!_ Not my fault you didn't shield! _Stupefy!_"

A small floating ball of bright red light hovered at Harry's end of the platform. "_Protego!_" Sirius shot a stinging hex back at Harry, who didn't duck low enough. Another red ball appeared at Sirius' end of the stage.

"_Furunculous!_"

Sirius side-stepped out of the path of the hex and sent a finger-removing jinx back at Harry. Harry ducked, and sent out a stupefy.

The duel continued for about ten minutes, when – with the score evenly tied at two hits each – Harry managed to hit Sirius with an expelliarmus. Harry walked across the stage and helped Sirius to his feet while Remus said, "And the match goes to Harry." Harry handed Sirius his wand and they jumped off the stage. Sirius turned and canceled the charm on his pocket dueling stage, and it shrank back to approximately an inch high by six inches long. He picked it up and tucked it into his pocket before turning to see Remus and Harry both trying not to laugh, Jenn snickering, and Chad's jaw open wide enough to count the fillings in his molars. "Shall we go inside for some hot chocolate?" Sirius grinned at his friends.

Once inside and fortified with a cup of coco, Chad recovered his wits enough to ask, "What the _hell_ was that?" Taking turns, Remus and Harry explained about magic. Chad scrubbed his hands across his face. "I almost don't want to ask, but I think I should… Why did you bring me over?"

Harry took a breath and began explaining about Voldemort. After many clarifying questions, and help from Remus and Sirius, Harry was about ready for a nap when they finished explaining everything. It had taken almost four hours.

Chad yawned, "So, basically, you want me to work on figuring out what this Voldemort character is going to do?"

"In a word, yes." Harry said. "We'll help you get whatever other information you may need, as well as help you with the magical aspect of what's going on, but… None of us really know what we're doing when it comes to thinking… like _that._"

"And I do…" Chad sighed and stood, his back popping audibly. "Do you mind if I sleep on it?"

"Go ahead. We're in no great rush, just yet." Remus answered.

"And if I decide not to?"

Sirius shook his head, "You'll not remember anything we told you. Nothing personal, mind you, it's just that the wizarding world has worked too long and too hard staying a secret from muggles…"

"I understand." Chad nodded. He'd done some work for the government back in the states, and he knew if they had been able to wipe his memory of the job, they would have. As it stood, he faced execution if he talked about _that_ little job.

He made his way to the den and curled up on the sofa, without bothering setting it to bed form, and without bothering to undress. He'd had a _helluva_ long day, and now _this._ He was asleep before he had time to think on whether he'd accept the job or not.

When he awoke, his watch told him it was four hours later. It actually said it was one in the afternoon, but he hadn't yet set it to GMT. After a bleary moment, he realized it was six in the evening. He could smell something delicious cooking down the hall. His stomach reminded him he'd slept through the meal on the plane. He sat up and stretched. _Well, Chad, what do you think? Take the job and get your questions answered, or go home and forget all about this?_ He had to laugh at himself. If he was honest with himself, he knew his answer. He ignored the little voice in the back of his head that kept telling him 'curiosity killed the cat' and set about finding a shower.

Clean and wearing clean clothes, he found Harry and Remus sitting in the kitchen while Jenn worked at the stove. He had to blink at the chess game they were playing, the pieces were _talking_. "Knight to E-3." He saw the piece in question move across the board, then demolish the bishop that had been sitting on the square. "Check."

Harry frowned, "I tried telling you, I'm not that good at chess, Remus." He thought for a moment, then had his king move out of harm's way. When he looked up, he spotted Chad standing in the doorway. "Sleep well?"

Chad nodded, "Yeah."

"What've you decided?" Jenn asked.

Chad grinned, "I'll probably regret this, but… Why not?"

Harry returned Chad's grin. "Good. We'll talk more after Allen gets home. Have a seat. I think Jenn said dinner should be ready shortly."

Chad took a seat next to Harry, "Who's winning?" he gestured to the chess board.

"Remus." Harry noticed that while he had been talking, Remus had moved. "Hey! I didn't get to see your move!"

Remus grinned, "Your loss. You really should pay more attention."

Chad helped Harry play Remus to a standstill before dinner was served. During the meal, the four of them chatted about insignificant things, mainly what Harry was hoping to do with his future and how he was doing in his muggle classes. Just as the meal was ending, the doorbell rang. Harry glanced at the clock above the stove. He sighed, "Fifteen minutes early. So, for him, right on time." He exited the kitchen and Chad shot a questioning glance at Jennifer.

"Professor Snape. He comes by a couple of times a week so that Harry can practice potion-making." Jenn answered.

"Also why Sirius cut out of here before dinner. He and Snape don't get along all that well." Remus supplied.

Jenn had to laugh at that. "I don't know who's worse, Sirius and Professor Snape, or you and Allen, Chad."

"That bad, eh?"

"You have no idea," Remus said as the back door opened.

Sirius ducked his head through the door, "Is that slimy git here yet? I wanted to ask Harry something."

Jenn snickered. "Here, Sirius." She shoved a tupperware container at him. "If I had known that taking in Harry meant I'd be cooking for _three _more people…"

"Empty threats, love. Empty threats." Sirius smiled. "We know you'd still do it. Thanks for dinner, by the way, but I really did have a question for Harry…"

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the mongrel." A voice Chad didn't recognize sounded from the door to the hall.

"_Snivellus_." Sirius sneered.

"Honestly, Black, get some new material. That one's getting old."

"I would, but you can't fault a classic."

"Hah! Classic? Not quite! The fleas must be getting to you."

"No more so than the fumes do you. You'd think you'd wash up more often. I know I would, but then again, not all of us delight in all things slimy."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You never understood the art –"

"Art? Hah! _Anyone_ can follow a recipe, you bloody –"

"Shut it, you ruddy cur!"

"Cur? That the best you can do, Death Eater?"

Something flashed in Snape's eyes and his wand was out, "Watch what you say, Black –"

Jennifer stepped between Sirius and Snape. "Guys! No hexing in my kitchen! If you're that set on killing each other, do so outside!"

Sirius smirked at Snape. "Sorry Jenn. It won't happen again. Thanks again for supper. I'll talk with you later," he directed the last comment at Harry. Harry nodded. Sirius apparated out of the house.

Snape had put his wand away and was now looking at Chad as though he were a particularly interesting potions sample. Harry sighed and shook his head, "You'd think _they_ were the teenagers." He muttered to Jenn.

Jenn smiled, "Too true, Harry."

Remus, however, ignored the whispers between Jenn and Harry. "Chad Thomas, this is Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Chad nodded and offered his hand, "Chad Thomas, profiler for the NYPD, though I have been known to take a bit of freelance work every now and then."

Severus shook the man's hand, noting some underlying similarity to Jennifer's features. "And what does a 'profiler' do?"

"Oh, I just get into the bad guy's heads, find out what they're going to do next, that sort of thing."

Snape quirked an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Chad grinned and shrugged, "It's harder than it sounds. Pays well, though."

"I wouldn't know."

"You got a few minutes?" Chad asked. "I should get working, it's what I'm here for and all. May as well get what information I can while you're here."

"And what, may I ask, information do you need from me?" Harry could see that his potions professor was rather uneasy.

"Oh, just a few questions about Voldemort."

The corner of Snape's eye twitched, "And of what use is information on the Dark Lord to a muggle?"

Chad's smile broadened, "You'd be surprised what you can do with simple information." He stood and placed a hand on Snape's shoulder. "This shouldn't take long." He pushed Snape through the door and towards the den.

Jenn exchanged a glance with Remus. "You know, I almost feel sorry for Severus."

"Don't worry about Snape. He can take care of himself," Remus replied.

"He's never met my brother, though."

* * *

A few days after his arrival in Britain, Chad found himself escorted by Sirius through a village that seemed as though it had ignored the last hundred years or so of technological development. He found out from Sirius that was an accurate assessment of Hogsmeade. It was still a bit much to take in that there was an entire subculture hidden from normal folk, hiding right in plain sight, so-to-speak, though it _did_ clear up a couple of questions about a case he had worked in the late eighties that remained unsolved. When he returned to the states, he'd see about getting in contact with the US wizarding sector to see if they could bring it to a close.

He followed Sirius through the snow-covered path in the woods to what looked like one of the many castle-ruins that were so prevalent throughout Europe. "Here," Sirius handed Chad a curiously-shaped pendant. "Put that on." The pendant appeared to be nothing more than a complicated bit of knotwork done in gold chain.

"What is it?"

"An amulet that will let you see through the illusion on the castle. Had you blundered into the area without a wizard-escort, the anti-muggle wards would have made you think you needed to be somewhere – anywhere – else."

Chad nodded, understanding of extreme security measures, and pulled the amulet on. He gasped as the ruins melted away to reveal a rather stunningly impressive castle. "Wow."

Sirius chuckled, "That seems to be the consensus of anyone seeing Hogwarts for the first time."

"This is a school?"

"What else would we use a castle for? The wizarding world got rid of monarchy a full three hundred years before the muggles did."

"I repeat: Wow."

Sirius shook his head, "Come on, the Headmaster's this way." Chad followed as Sirius lead the way through twisting corridors and up multiple staircases, past portraits that greeted them and suits of armor that waived hello. After several minutes, though it seemed much shorter, Sirius stopped in front of a stone gargoyle. "Hey there, Hubert, old boy. Why don't you let the Headmaster know we're here to see him?" The gargoyle nodded and Chad and Sirius waited a moment before it stepped out of the way to reveal a spiral staircase, slowly moving upwards like an escalator. "Hop on." Sirius demonstrated, and Chad followed close behind.

When they reached the top of the staircase, and entered a massive pair of double-doors, Chad found himself in a large office wherein multiple gold and silver gadgets hummed and clicked along, the walls covered with portraits of witches and wizards sleeping – _Or are they only pretending? I could have sworn that one just peeked at me out of the corner of her eye…_

"Sirius, good afternoon. How can I help you?" Chad looked to the speaker. An old man with a long white beard and longer white hair was smiling at them. He had bright blue eyes and looked as though his nose had been broken at least twice. He was wearing bright blue robes that had little fluffy white clouds floating across them. Every so often, a bird would flitter through the clouds before disappearing again.

"Good day, Professor. May I introduce Chad Thomas?"

Dumbledore looked at Chad, and Chad felt a curious sensation of fingers brushing through his thoughts when he met the old man's eyes. "I don't mean any disrespect, sir, but if you don't stop whatever it is you're doing, I'll be forced to take action."

Dumbledore chuckled. "My apologies, Chad. Please, have a seat." He motioned to the two chairs now in front of his desk.

Chad sat, "Just what were you doing?" Sirius looked interested in Dumbledore's response, as well.

"Merely determining if you were a threat, nothing more." Dumbledore conjured up a tea service. "Tea?"

Sirius accepted a cup, Chad didn't. "To get to why I'm here, I'll be blunt. I've been hired in my capacity as a profiler to work for Harry Potter. He feels my expertise would be beneficial regarding this Lord Voldemort fellow. I was aimed in your direction because you have the most information."

Dumbledore chuckled again, "Of course, dear boy. Of course. I'll tell what I can, but do keep in mind that it may not be all I know. Some things aren't for me to tell."

Chad nodded, "No harm, no foul."

Dumbledore turned to Sirius, "Sirius, if you would be so kind as to leave me with Mr. Thomas for a bit? I believe Hagrid would be happy to speak with you."

"Certainly, Headmaster. Send word when you're done."

Dumbledore nodded. When Sirius had gone from the office, Chad quirked an eyebrow at the old man. "Just what _were_ you doing? It was the most peculiar sensation I've ever come across."

"Like I said, dear boy, I was making sure you were not a threat. I must admit that you've one of the more organized minds I've ever come across – wizarding or muggle."

Chad shrugged. "It's helpful in my line of work."

"Ah, yes. You said you were a profiler. Just what does that entail?"

"I've several degrees in psychology, I use what I know to assist the police in figuring out what the 'bad-guys' are going to do next."

Dumbledore suddenly looked interested. "Fascinating. And Mr. Potter has hired you to work on Voldemort?"

Chad nodded, "Yeah. I know this isn't strictly my area, but Sirius and Remus will be helping me not to think like a – what's the word? Ah, yeah. Like a muggle."

"Hmm…" Dumbledore stood, "I think I understand what your goal is, and I must say that I'm a touch surprised. Harry's proving more resourceful than I would have credited."

Chad snickered, "You and me, both." He opened the briefcase he brought with him and pulled out a pad of paper and a ball-point pen. "Shall we get started, then?"

Dumbledore nodded, "I reiterate, though. There _are_ some things that aren't mine to tell."

"Don't matter, just go with whatever you can."

Dumbledore smiled, "Thank you." He wandered across the office and opened a cupboard. He withdrew a large stone bowl, complete with elaborate carvings on the sides. "This is a pensieve, Mr. Thomas. Some of what you ask that I relay… Words fail. This will allow you to see what I saw."

* * *

"You say he's not at Hogwarts?"

"No, milord. My nephew says that the rumor is that he was barred from going by his aunt."

"This is most fortuitous news, indeed, my Bella. I want you to find him."

"May I ask why, milord?"

Harry smiled at Bellatrix. "I want him, Bella. I want to finish what I started all those years ago."

Bella bowed her head, "As milord commands it." She turned to a stack of parchments on a candle-lit desk. There was a very old book under the parchment. "Milord? The ritual demands four, not three, points of sacrifice. I don't see how you plan to complete this without the fourth aspect."

Harry chuckled, "It's all in the arithmancy, Bella. If you look at the date I've written down there, you'll see how we will be able to complete it without a fourth."

Harry sat up, blinking the remains of sleep out of his eyes. _Damn, another one._ He reached for a notebook and scribbled down all the details of the dream he could remember before getting out of bed and locating the painkiller in the bathroom. He had a feeling that these dreams – _visions, whatever_ – weren't going to go away. When he returned to his room, he saw that it was nearing seven. _There's no sense in going back to sleep._ He dressed and decided to make breakfast. He'd not had to cook since leaving the Dursleys, and he rather missed it.

By the time Jennifer showed up in the kitchen, Harry'd had almost everything done. Remus showed up not much later, drawn by the smell of bacon and omelets. Allen turned up at his normal time, "This is good, Harry. We might have to have you cook a bit more often," he grinned.

While they ate breakfast, Harry told them about his dream of the night before. He knew Chad was likely on the other side of the door, taking notes. It seemed as though the American kept arguments between himself and Allen to a minimum by not being where Allen was. Harry had yet to see the two of them in the same room.

After Allen left for work, Chad joined in breakfast, polishing up the last of the bacon in the process. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Chad asked, draining his coffee mug.

"Not too much, actually. Classes for me start up again tomorrow." Harry refilled Chad's mug. "I was thinking on inviting Arthur over for the afternoon. We may go to Diagon Alley to talk with Gringotts."

Remus looked confused for a moment. "Arthur Weasley? Whatever for?"

"He's going to be helping Harry with a revolution." Jenn said.

"Huh?"

"You know Arthur, right?" Harry asked. Remus nodded. "What's his hobby?"

"He dabbles in muggle stuff."

"And?"

Remus shrugged, "I've no idea what you're getting on about, Cub."

Harry laughed, "Nothing much to start with. I just figured that if I've got all this money, I may as well use it for something productive."

Remus closed his eyes. "Please tell me you're not thinking of doing what I think you're going to…"

Harry smirked, "Fine, then I won't say anything."

"What of Voldemort, Harry?" Remus met Harry's eyes.

"What of him? I'm not going to let him side-track me too awful much. I've got some plans that I want to see come to fruition."

Remus groaned and buried his face in his hands, "Do me a favor, though, Cub. At least talk to Andie first. Please?"

Harry chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of trying this without her help."

"Good."

Chad cleared his throat, "Um… Excuse me, but what're all of you talking about?"

Jenn shared a look with Harry, "Do you want to tell him or should I?"

Harry shrugged, "You can. I'm going to go over to Sirius' to floo Arthur. Back in a bit."

Remus threw his hands in the air, "I don't want to know. I'll be in the lounge if anyone needs me."

* * *

**A/N2:** And this chapter ended up about twice the length I'd anticipated. I like how it panned out, though.

Remember to support the fic, and review!

**Edit:** I noticed, after posting the chapter, a minor name-error, ergo I have reposted the chapter, correcting the error in the process.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** Consider it disclaimed.

**A/N:** I know that England is still _technically_ a monarchy, but they've a representational government, too, unless I'm completely off the mark someone pointed out that my line about the monarchy was less than accurate in the last chapter, so I thought I'd clarify a little where I was coming from.

Arthur, Sirius, and Harry talk about the 'revolution.'

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Business Plans**

"Hallo, Harry. What can I do for you today?" Arthur asked through the floo.

"Morning, Arthur. Is your day free? I thought we'd get together to further discuss that business venture we were discussing a while back." Harry smiled.

"Just let me tell Molly where I'll be and I'll be over in a tic. Sirius' place, right?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. See you in a few."

The floo flared green and the connection closed. "Um… Harry?"

"Yeah, Sirius?"

"What 'business venture'?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm thinking about starting a company to see about merging magic and muggle technology. You've seen some of what muggles can do, and I know you know what magic can do. You can't disagree that they'd compliment each other quite well, if only someone figured out how to do so."

"And you think you're that someone?" Sirius asked in disbelief.

Harry chuckled, "Well, not _just_ me. I realize I don't know near enough about the topic to work on it on my own."

Sirius whistled, "Damn, Pup. I never would have believed it, but I think you just might be the only one who could pull something like this off. Especially once you take care of that little issue of You-Know-Who."

Harry smirked. "I know."

Just then the floo flared again and Arthur Weasley stepped out, brushing soot off his cloak. "You need to clean your floo, Sirius."

Sirius nodded, "I know. I was just talking with Harry here, about that little idea of his…"

Arthur smiled, "Brilliant, isn't it?"

Sirius laughed, "Yeah, it is, and I want in."

Harry chuckled, "Well… what are your qualifications?"

Sirius looked insulted. "Pup?"

Harry shrugged, "If I'm going to hire you, I want to know what job you're applying for and why you think you'd be the best candidate."

Arthur snickered, "May it not be said that he doesn't have a head for business."

"Come on, guys, let's to the kitchen. Some coco and biscuits are needed if I'm going to have to justify myself to my own godson."

As Harry and Arthur followed Sirius to the kitchen, Harry commented, "I know it's rather standard to practice nepotism, but I want to make sure that everyone involved in this – 'revolution' is the best word for it, I guess – that everyone involved is really the best person for the job."

Sirius laughed outright and indicated that Harry and Arthur should take a seat at the table. He busied himself making hot chocolate, "Arthur, you'll find some parchment and a quill in that drawer there," he pointed. "Why don't you take notes while Harry here outlines what he's got in mind."

"Sure thing." Arthur gave Sirius a mock-salute and located the parchment and never-out quill. "Go on, Harry."

Harry spent a moment composing his thoughts. "Well, the ultimate goal is to merge both the magical and muggle worlds. However, we have to do this carefully. If it's done to quickly, there will be friction on both sides and everyone will resist the changes."

"Good point. I know most of the pureblood sect won't want to see _any_ merging. I remember back when the wireless sets were first introduced – I was only five or so – but they didn't really take off until some advertisement said that they were taking a muggle idea and making it better for 'the comfort of wizardkind.'"

Arthur laughed, "I remember that, too. My folks didn't want to get one, and they didn't until my younger brother came home with one. Within a month, Mum was singing along to it, and Dad was spending all day Saturdays listening to the quidditch commentary."

Harry nodded, thoughtfully, "Alright, so we will definitely need a good advertiser. The muggle side of things won't be so difficult. As long as it's 'new,' they'll buy just about anything." Harry accepted a cup of coco from Sirius. Sirius turned back to the cupboards and began digging around for some biscuits. "The secondary goal, rather, the more _public_ one should be something along the line of what you said the wireless company said, Sirius. If we market ourselves as trying to promote wizarding comforts, then there will be less friction from that section."

"Hang on a second, Harry." Arthur interrupted. "You said you want to merge the worlds, not just the technology." Harry nodded. "Just how are you going to expose magic to the muggles?"

Harry shrugged, "_That_ I'm not too sure about just yet. It has to be done in a way that won't create another era of witch-hunts. Back right after I met Remus and he was explaining magic to Allen and the rest, he mentioned something about genetics. I know the muggles are mapping out the human genetic code… I'm surprised they've not yet found the genes responsible for magical ability…" He trailed off when he was met by confused stares from his two companions. Harry sighed, "Look it up. I don't really feel like getting into an explanation of biology and genetics right now."

Arthur made a note to do just that. "Okay… I think we have an idea as to exactly _what_ you want to accomplish. Just out of curiosity, though, I think we ought to map out precisely _why_ we're doing this."

"That's easy," Harry said, "there are so many things that magic can do that technology can't, as well as things that technology can achieve that magic is unable; merging the two would benefit everyone, both wizard and muggle."

Arthur nodded, grinning. "Glad to see that we're in complete agreement on that, Harry."

Sirius started laughing loudly. "What's so funny?" Harry asked.

"Just imagining what my mother would have said if she could see me now. Conspiring with – pardon the expressions – a half-blood and a blood-traitor to bring about the downfall of wizarding society!"

Harry frowned at that. "No… I don't want to eradicate wizarding society… Merely bring it into the twentieth century… I know the wizarding world has a rich history, and the absolute _last_ thing I want to do is see that history come to an end."

Sirius sobered, "Well, I don't see how you plan to merge the two societies without losing that history, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "Combining the two shouldn't detract from either culture; it should add to both, creating something completely new. Rather like taking the raw ingredients for a potion and making something new out of them. You can still find the original components, if you look, but they've blended together and made something that is so much more than the sum of its parts."

Following a little tingle of intuition, Arthur wrote that down word-for-word. "I think we'll probably need to get involved in politics, as well as education to pull this off, Harry."

"How so?"

"Well… In order to preserve the history of both cultures, it would make sense to re-vamp the Muggle Studies courses currently offered, as well as create something for muggle-born students that educates them on wizarding culture and customs. I recall being in school and having to explain what I thought was common knowledge to a couple of muggle-born students in my year."

Harry nodded, Sirius agreed, "Makes sense. The courses should be mandatory, as well. Now, this is just a little idea I had that we probably won't see used for quite some time, but I was thinking that there should be a class or at least a book or two aimed at explaining magic to muggles…"

"Fantastic idea, Sirius. Did you write that down, Arthur?" Harry asked. Arthur indicated that he had done so. "I can see why we'd need to be a bit politically-minded… Who do we know that could help us out in that arena?"

Sirius shrugged, "Don't look at me, mate. I've been rather out of the loop for the better part of two decades. What about you, Arthur? You work at the Ministry."

Arthur looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure just yet, Sirius. I'll ask around a bit, see who we might be able to coerce to our side, so-to-speak. I have a couple of people in mind, but I'll have to tread delicately."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Arthur smiled, "Don't want to get caught making too many waves, do I? Until we get this off the ground, I don't want to lose a steady income. Unlike you two, I've a family."

"Understood," Sirius nodded.

"If you wanted me to, I could hire you right now." Harry supplied. "I mean, even if this doesn't go much further than you and me tinkering in my room… Not to be crass, but what's your current salary?"

Arthur sighed, "About a hundred galleons every two weeks."

Harry quickly computed that to about two thousand pounds a month. "That doesn't seem like much, especially since you've got how many people still at home? Five?"

Arthur sighed, "It's even less after the bills are all taken into consideration."

"Oh yeah. Sorry, Ron's only mentioned Ginny once or twice. I'd forgotten she was in hospital. That would put a bit of a stretch on things, wouldn't it?"

Shrugging, Arthur said, "There's not much to be done about it, though. She needs the care, and – as expensive as Saint Mungo's is – it would have cost more to send her to a hospital on continent, or even in America."

Harry thought for a moment before asking Arthur to hand him the quill and a bit of parchment. He wrote down a generous offer. "If you decide to work for me, this is what your salary will be, per year."

Arthur goggled at the sum. "Harry… This is really too much…"

Harry snorted, "No, it isn't. I trust you, and realize you know a hell of a lot more about what we're trying to do than I do. I actually cut down the offer I had originally wanted to give you."

Arthur shook his head, "No, Harry, I'm really flattered that you think that highly of my abilities, but I won't tolerate you spending your entire inheritance on hiring me."

Harry blinked, then snorted, then snickered. The snickers grew into giggles, which mutated into laughter. Before long, Harry's sides hurt. Arthur was watching Harry like he'd lost his mind. Sirius was simply wondering if he should make popcorn and enjoy the show. Though it took a fair few minutes, Harry finally calmed down. "Arthur, I don't think you quite realize how well-invested the money I inherited was. I could pay you that sum, _weekly_, for a hundred years before I started to notice a dent in my vault."

Arthur picked up the parchment and calculated what the sum, multiplied over 5200 times, would be. He found himself disbelieving of a number comprised of that many digits. "But…"

"No, Arthur, don't argue with it. Let me put it another way; when I first saw the bank statements, and realized what the conversion of galleons to pounds was, I was in shock. I'd heard of international corporations that dealt in figures that high, but this was all mine. As such, I'm going to put it where I think it will do the most good. And I plan to start by paying you something that echoes your true value – even if only to myself."

While Harry was speaking, Sirius got up and collected the empty mugs. Curiosity got the best of him and he glanced at the parchment slip that Arthur was holding. "You know, Arthur, that's a reasonable offer. It's on a level with the salaries that the upper researchers get at Greer Potions. I also know a couple of people in the ministry that make that per year – correction. I knew people who made that, sixteen years ago. Don't sell yourself short."

Arthur bit his lip. "I still have to discuss it with Molly…"

Sirius chuckled. "I'm sure she'll support you. Even if she's argumentative about it, you could always just pull out all the stops."

Arthur looked up at Sirius, "How's that?"

Sirius grinned, "Introduce her to Harry."

"Pardon? How would that help?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"All you'd have to do is smile that little sheepish grin you've got, Pup." Harry blushed and ducked his head. "Yeah, that one." Sirius laughed and poked Harry in the ribs.

Harry huffed in exasperation and batted Sirius' hand away. "Quit that. And just how much were _you_ expecting, godfather-mine?"

Sirius shrugged, "Nothing. I figure I'd be a business partner. Though the Black fortune wasn't quite so expertly managed in my absence, I've got money to burn and now a cause I can sink my teeth into. However, if you insist that I _do_ something… I can always be the spokesperson." Sirius struck a pose as if for the cover of _Witch Weekly_. Letting the pose fall away at Harry's incredulous look, he sighed, "_Or_ I could do something with experimental charms and spells. I almost went into that after Hogwarts, but decided to try for the Auror program with your dad. Shocked the hell out of me when I made it through the application process."

Arthur nodded, "I can believe that. I do recall, however, that you did quite well in training. Too bad everything happened before you could really make your mark in the Auror Corp, though. We all could see you were headed for greatness at the time."

Sirius shrugged, "Water under the bridge. What matters now is how I go forward."

"Precisely."

The three of them spent another hour or so comprising a list of people they would need to get into contact with, as well as what sort of material goods they were likely to need in the near-future. Jokingly, they decided on Sirius as President and Arthur as Head of Research and Development. Harry, of course, was the CEO and Director of Human Resources. When they finished, all that remained was to decide upon a name.

When asked, Arthur shook his head, "Leave me out of that part, guys. I'm just an employee. You two are fronting the cash, so you two get to name it."

"You're sure?" Harry asked. Arthur nodded.

"Hmm… How about 'Potter-Black Enterprises?'" Sirius suggested.

Harry shook his head, "I don't think so. As Hermione is constantly reminding me, I'm apparently famous in the wizarding world. I don't want people to get involved with either our potential products or our cause just because of a famous name."

"True… I hadn't thought of that."

"Why not just 'Black Enterprises?'"

"No… I'm not the one whose idea this was. That sends the wrong impression."

Harry sighed. "Maybe we ought to have Hermione name it…"

Arthur snickered and shook his head, "I don't think that's a good idea. Ron told me that when she found out about House-elves at Hogwarts, she started a club to try to free them. She called it the 'Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare.' Ron called it 'spew.'"

"House-elves?" Harry asked.

"Tell you later," Sirius replied.

"Well… Maybe not Hermione…"

Sirius thought for a moment. "Would you be opposed to having a _part_ of your name in the company's name?"

"What'd you have in mind?"

"How about 'Black Pot Enterprises?'"

Harry laughed, "That sounds like something you'd find in Amsterdam."

Sirius shrugged, "Hey, I never said I was good at this."

"I think you're on the right track, though." Harry bit his lip for a moment, thinking. "What about 'Black Cauldron Enterprises?'"

Sirius chewed it over in his mind, "Hmm… Perhaps a touch too wizarding."

_What's wizarding _and_ muggle… Hmm… Ah-ha!_ Harry grinned when his gaze landed on Sirius' stove. "Okay, then, how about 'Black Kettle Enterprises?'"

Sirius returned Harry's grin. "I like that. Has a nice ring to it."

Arthur grinned as well, "Sounds like we have a winner!" He wrote it in big, block letters across the top of his notes.

Harry glanced at the clock, "It's only a little past two. We still have time to talk to Andie and go to Gringotts."

"You think we can get all that done yet today?" Arthur asked.

Harry nodded, "If we hurry at Gringotts. Shouldn't take too long to set up a business account… At least, Allen said it didn't take too long to do so at a muggle bank. I'm assuming it isn't too different for the wizarding side of things."

Sirius and Arthur both shrugged, "Don't see how it could be all that different, Pup. Banking is banking, no matter who's the one doing it."

* * *

**A/N2:** And another one's down, and another one's gone, and another one bites the dust.

Reviews are worth more than gold and gems ever could be.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** Alas, tis not mine.

**A/N:** Yeah, this one's a bit on the short side, but I'm a little at a loss as to what happens next, and I figured y'all would rather have another chapter, regardless of the length, than wait for my muse to show back up.

Chad describes his preliminary findings, Sirius describes his favorite sweet, and Harry has another vision.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Of Impressions and Sweets**

On January 12, after more than two weeks of information-gathering and careful thought, Chad grit his teeth and resigned himself to a meal with the mechanic. _It will be far, far easier to just get it over and done with. You know you don't like him, and he doesn't like you, but he's one of Harry's friends, and you don't have any problems dealing with them, odd as they may be._ He pushed the door to the kitchen open. Jenn and Harry looked up in surprise. Remus was away, as it was the night of the full moon, but Sirius was there, taking advantage of Jenn's excellent cooking. Allen glanced up and, determined to prove his wife wrong, proceeded to ignore his brother-in-law.

"Evening, all." Chad nodded to Sirius, Harry, and Jenn.

"Wasn't expecting you for dinner… Did you want a plate?" Jenn asked.

Chad shook his head, "To tell the truth, I'm not all that hungry. I just thought I'd let you all know that I've finished up my preliminary investigation."

Harry sat up straighter, "And?"

Chad sighed, "And it's my opinion that Voldemort is likely going to try to finish you off. What I've been able to ascertain is that he's primarily motivated by hate and anger. If he succeeds in getting you, then he'll likely try to take revenge on the rest of the world."

"Revenge?" Sirius asked. "What for?"

Chad sat at the table, "Apparently, this guy was raised in an orphanage. He wasn't treated all that well." He took a breath, "In fact, it sounds a lot like this nut would benefit greatly from some anti-psychotics and a stay in a rubber room with a _very_ understanding therapist."

Oddly enough, Allen was the only one that snickered at Chad's attempt at humor. Chad, though, merely shot Allen a dark look and turned back to the other three.

"When do you think he might… erm… try to 'finish me off?'" Harry had set his fork down. He was suddenly not feeling all that hungry.

Chad shook his head, "Sorry, but I don't know that, just yet. It'll take me a while to ferret out the significance of miscellaneous dates. I do know, however, that he's got at least one witch helping him, possibly more."

Harry shook his head, "No… Not yet, anyway. There's only the one."

"And just how do you know this?"

Harry sighed, "I can't really explain how or why, but I _know _I'm right. I've been dreaming about him, and there's only ever the one witch with him…"

Chad turned to Sirius for an explanation. Sirius merely shook his head, "Don't look at me, mate. I have no idea what's causing it, either. I've tried to get him to talk to Albus about it, but he won't listen."

Harry scowled at the mention of the headmaster's name. Chad took a deep breath. "Harry, I'm going to give you a little unsolicited advice; you're involved in what will soon become a war – if it's not put to rest quickly and quietly. Sometimes, especially during wartime, you have to work with people you'd rather not in order to get things done. I don't pretend to know quite why you dislike the old man so much. Granted, he has his fair share of secrets, but I'm certain anyone that old would. Set aside your grudge for now," here, Chad was unable to keep his eyes from flickering to Allen, "and come back to it when Voldemort's no longer a factor."

Harry picked up his fork and poked at his dinner, "I see what you mean. I can't promise anything, but… I'll try."

* * *

"Quit laughing!" Harry scolded Remus and Sirius. They had asked him what his preferred sweet was and Harry had responded with a simple 'chocolate.' He failed to see what was so funny. "Fine. What's yours?"

Remus shrugged, "I'm rather fond of peppermint, but I also enjoy Acid Pops."

Sirius wrinkled his nose, "How you can stand those, I'll never know! I'm a bit of a Bertie Botts fan, myself. Especially the Winter Mix."

"Bertie Botts?" Harry inquired.

"Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, of course. The Winter Mix has flavors including peppermint, hot coco, eggnog, chestnut, roast goose, fresh snow, mistletoe, and pine tree."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Fresh snow, mistletoe, and pine tree?"

Sirius grinned, "Well… they _are _Every Flavor Beans, you know."

"Mmhmm…" Harry responded, clearly skeptical.

"We'll have to get you some. Make sure you have a rubbish bin handy for the flavors like vomit and earthworm."

"Gross." _How could anyone enjoy an earthworm-flavored jellybean?_ Harry shook his head, "And with answers like those, I'm curious as to why you found my answer of chocolate so amusing."

Sirius looked at Remus. They held the gaze a moment before dissolving into laughter once more. After many interruptions of laughing – and actual giggling from Remus at one point – Harry finally got the story of the time the Marauders, over-stressed from end-of-year exams, had transfigured the entirety of the Gryffindor common room into various types of chocolate. What had been so funny was that Harry's mum had failed to notice the room transform around her as she'd been working on a History of Magic essay. It wasn't until she'd managed to eat half her quill – made into dark chocolate – that she'd noticed anything amiss.

Once properly explained, Harry had to admit it was a trifle humorous.

* * *

"Bella, sweetling, I want you to contact a house elf for me."

"A house elf, milord?"

Harry nodded, "Yes. A house elf."

"Any house elf, milord?"

Harry grinned, the expression feeling somewhat odd and alien on his face, "No, Bella. I've a particular one in mind. Yours was not the first successful escape from Azkaban."

Bellatrix blinked in surprise. "Who else, milord? And how?"

"Barty Crouch, the younger. And how… Were you referring to how he escaped or how I know?"

Bella smiled, "Either, milord."

Harry chuckled, the sound high-pitched and unnerving. "I'm sure he would enjoy letting you know when he arrives. For now, though, I need you to get into contact with the Crouch household's main elf. She will know what to do."

"As you wish, milord," Bellatrix bowed and turned to leave the room.

"Oh, and Bella?"

She paused at the door to the room, "Yes, milord?"

"Don't forget to let Nagini out after you milk her. It should be done no later than four."

"Of course, milord."

Harry woke up, slightly miffed about the lack of normal dreams. He normally enjoyed his dreams – they were often the inspiration for his artwork. _If this keeps up much longer, I'll not be able to paint much beyond fire, snakes, and that Bella woman._ Harry sighed and pulled the notebook wherein he'd been recording these dreams and scribbled down the most recent addition. Thumbing through it, he realized that this counted at the twentieth such dream. He closed the notebook and replaced it in his bedside table's drawer. _It appears as though Remus and Sirius and Chad are right… Much as I may not want to, I think I'm going to have to speak with Dumbledore. _Harry punched his pillow in frustration and tried to go back to sleep.

* * *

**A/N2:** Again, I apologize for how short it is, and will say that the next one ought to be at least twice this length. Probably longer, for even though I've only one scene in mind, it contains Harry, Dumbledore, Sirius, Severus, Chad, and Allen, among others. The sniping possibilities are mind-boggling.

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	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** And again I say it ain't mine.

**A/N:** As promised, a nicely long chappie to make up for the shortness of the last one. I hope it meets with everyone's standards.

Contained herein is a meeting of the… um… 'Order of Harry?'

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Confrontations and Plans**

It took the better part of a week and a half for Remus to organize a meeting of all the key players. With Jenn's help, though, it went faster than he'd dared hope. They rented a small conference room at a local hotel, neutral ground for all involved. Jenn had originally offered use of her home for the meeting, but once she saw the guest list – on which there were seventeen names, counting herself and Remus – agreed with Remus that it would be too small to hold everyone.

On January 24, 1998, Remus collected Sirius from his house and piled into the back seat of Jenn's car. Allen took the front seat, next to his wife, and Harry was following them in Viridian. Chad was riding with Harry. The miniature caravan made their way through lightly blowing snow to the hotel. It was just after one in the afternoon. Allen had closed up the shop for the day – they weren't all that busy, after all.

Upon arriving at the hotel, Jennifer and Remus disappeared to make sure their request for refreshments had been processed, and to check on the location of the room they'd rented. Harry, Sirius, Allen, and Chad waited in the lobby – Allen was near the exit and Chad was glaring at him from across the room. While they were waiting, Albus Dumbledore arrived, Severus Snape in his wake, and trailed closely by Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. "Looks like the Hogwarts contingent has arrived," Chad muttered.

Following the unintentional example, Sirius and Severus took opposite corners of the room, glaring and scowling at each other. Harry, remembering his promise to Chad the week before, attempted to set aside his resentment of Dumbledore, and merely pretended the old wizard wearing the bright blue three-piece-suit was someone else. Jennifer and Remus arrived shortly thereafter. "Hey all. The room's ready. Remus'll show you to it while I wait for the others to arrive." Jenn smiled at everyone.

As the collected group followed Remus, the lobby doors opened once again, "Foul weather, isn't it?" Arthur said while brushing snow off his coat.

"Certainly, dear. Now, you're the one that knows who we're looking for…" A red-headed, motherly woman said. Jenn assumed she was Arthur's wife. Before she could greet them, though, the door opened once more.

"Bugger out of the way, Arthur. You're blocking the door." Jenn swallowed thickly, wondering just what had happened to the man that spoke. He was wearing an eye-patch on his heavily-scarred face and limped along, leaning on a stout walking stick. Behind him stood a tall, bald black man with a golden hoop in one ear.

Arthur, seemed to have no qualms about the scarred man's appearance. "Moody! Good to see you again!"

Moody grinned, "So, where's the meeting?"

Jennifer approached the group, forcing herself to address Arthur. "Afternoon, all. I'm Jennifer Kellerman. The meeting is in Conference Hall Three. If you go to that hallway and turn right, it will be the third door," she pointed in the proper direction.

"Thanks, Jenn. Harry's already here, I assume?" Arthur smiled.

Jenn nodded, "That's right. And if you'll hurry… I have the feeling that open war is about to descend, despite Remus' best intentions. Sirius and Professor Snape are already there, as are Allen and my brother."

Arthur chuckled, "It's always a bit astounding to see people who dislike one another working together, isn't it?"

Jenn nodded, "That it is."

The four new arrivals followed Jenn's directions and disappeared around the corner to the hall. "Interesting group." The desk clerk commented. "What's the organization?"

"What?" Jenn stalled for time. "Oh, sorry. It's the bi-millennial sub-quarterly fiscal conference on the uncertainties of quantum-flux in Alienware subroutines." Jennifer smiled sweetly at the brunette clerk.

The clerk blinked, "Oh," and returned his attention to his paperwork.

_If you can't dazzle them with fact, baffle them with bullshit._ She glanced at her mobile to get the time. _The rest should be here any minute._ As though her thought had conjured them, the door opened once more and Tonks, tripping over her own feet, stumbled through, followed by Andie and a man Jenn vaguely remembered meeting at the New Year's party. The man sighed and helped Tonks to her feet. Jenn noticed at that moment that Tonks' hair was a normal color for once. It was a dark honey-blonde, though it did have black streaks through it. When she was back on her feet she said, "Thanks, Dad."

"Jennifer, good to see you again." Andie greeted Jennifer.

"You as well, Andie."

"This is my husband, Ted. I don't remember if we ever introduced you properly."

Jennifer accepted the proffered hand, "No time like the present. Pleased to meet you, again. I'm Jennifer Kellerman, but feel free to call me Jenn."

"Will do," the rather plain man affirmed.

"Where're we going?" Tonks asked.

"Since you guys are the last to arrive, I'll show you."

Andie grimaced and glanced at the clock behind the front desk, "We're not late, are we?"

Jenn shook her head as she lead the way to the conference room, "No. It's just that the rest of us were early."

Jennifer opened the door to the conference room and immediately ducked as a flash of bright light connected with the door frame. The conference room had apparently been declared as the grounds of World War Three. Shouting was heard coming from nearly all present. She saw that her husband and Chad were fighting – Chad had Allen in a headlock and Allen was beating at his arms while his face turned bright red. Sirius and Snape were circling each other in the middle of the room, shouting insults, interspersed with curses and hexes. Arthur was trying to break up the fight between Chad and Allen, while Ron argued loudly with his mother, the words of the argument lost in the cacophony of the general chaos in the room. Remus was alternately trying to stun Snape and get Sirius to calm down. The tall black man was watching everything with thinly-veiled amusement. Hermione and Harry had taken shelter under a table along the far wall. There was no sign of the scarred man, nor of the headmaster.

Jennifer saw all this in the split second before she ducked back into the hallway, hurriedly closing the door behind her. She could see that Andie was trying not to laugh and Tonks was shaking her head. Ted took a breath and reached for the door. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Jenn warned.

Ted shrugged, "Don't worry about it." He opened the door and stepped into the room, dodging another stray curse. He raised two fingers to his mouth and whistled shrilly, then with a volume that few would suspect from the nondescript man, he roared, "THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Surprisingly, everyone halted in their tracks. Chad released Allen. Sirius tossed one last glare at Snape and pocketed his wand. Remus followed suit. Severus hesitated a moment then turned and strode over to where a stray curse blasted a hole in the carpet-covered floor and repairing the damage. Ron had quit arguing with his mother and was helping Harry and Hermione out from under the table. After a minute or two of uncomfortable silence, Snape quietly muttering repair charms in the background, all those present who possessed a wand set to helping right the room. Dumbledore and Moody showed up just as the last chair flew back together. Dumbledore smiled benignly at the assembly and leaned over to Moody's ear. Just loud enough for the rest to hear, he whispered, "Why do I get the feeling we missed quite a show whilst looking for the loo?"

Moody chuckled, "I agree completely, Albus."

Once everyone found their seats, most of the group turned towards Dumbledore. Harry, however, was the one that stood. "Thanks for coming on such short notice, everyone. I was the one that asked Remus to call this little concursatio. I simply felt it was time to make sure we were all on the same page." A round of nods and general agreement sounded. "To begin, I think it would be best to introduce ourselves, as I don't know all of you, yet, and I'm sure you don't all know each other. Except for maybe Headmaster Dumbledore."

There was some quiet chuckling, and Harry smiled, "I expect I'll begin. I'm Harry Potter." He turned to Allen, who was sitting next to him.

Allen stood and nodded to every one, "I'm Allen Kellerman. My wife and I took Harry in a while back," he grinned a little. "Though if we'd known what we were getting ourselves into, we might've rethought that!"

Jenn, laughing, stood as Allen sat. "I'm Jenn Kellerman, and ignore Allen, Harry. If we had it to do over, we'd still do the same."

Chad was next. "I'm Chad Thomas, Jenny's brother. I'm a profiler with the NYPD, and Jenn called me over to help out with your little Dark Lord issue."

Remus stood, "Remus Lupin." Then Sirius introduced himself, followed by Ron, Arthur, and Molly. Hermione stated her name, then Dumbledore – rather amused at the entire process, most of those assembled had worked together on numerous occasions. Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were next, followed by Severus. Just as Ted stood, however, the conference room door burst open. Thirteen wands and a large pistol were out in a flash.

Nigel Smythwick held his hands up, "Whoa there. Put the shooters away… If I'd have known this would be the reception I'd get, I wouldn't have been late!"

"Nigel? What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Allen asked, confused.

Nigel smiled and grabbed a spare folding chair from near the door. "Heard about a little meeting today."

"From whom?" Harry asked.

Nigel shrugged, "Through the grapevine, I suppose." He opened the chair and sat down. "Hey, Kingsley. How's Shauna doing?"

Shacklebolt smiled, "Not too bad. Long time, no see. Where the hell'd you disappear off to?"

Nigel smirked, "Oh… Here and there, my friend. Here and there." He nodded to Dumbledore, "Headmaster."

"Just what on earth is going on?" Harry very nearly shouted.

"In a minute, Harry. I believe you were doing something when I so rudely interrupted?"

Harry sighed and motioned for Ted to continue. Ted, throwing a wary glance at Nigel, introduced himself quickly, his wife followed suit. Tonks stood, knocking her chair over in the process. "I'm those two's daughter. Tonks. _Just Tonks._"

"Nymphadora!" Dumbledore, Andie, Ted, and Sirius said simultaneously.

"Nymphadora?" Chad said in disbelief.

Tonks whirled, her wand pointing at the muggle. "You got a problem with it, friend?"

Chad raised his hands in a supplicating gesture. "No, Tonks. Just wondering what the hell your parents were smoking the night they named you, and where I could get some." Ted laughed, and Andie looked about ready to strangle him.

Tonks brightened and stowed her wand. "Oh. Sorry." She sat back down.

"Don't worry about it." Chad said.

Harry, meanwhile, turned to Nigel. "You were about to explain yourself?"

Nigel grinned and stood up, "Nigel Smythwick. Hogwarts class of '76, ex-dorm mate of Shacklebolt."

"And how, exactly, did you learn of today's meeting?" Severus asked.

"By remembering my roots, Severus. Overheard Allen talking with Remus at work yesterday." Nigel grinned at the man who echoed the boy that had been a couple of years below him at Hogwarts, "Thought I could be of some use."

"So, just _what_ have you been doing with yourself, Nigel?" Kingsley asked.

Nigel shrugged, "A bit of this, a bit of that. Was in the States for a while. Got a couple of science degrees from MIT. Came back and met up with Allen and his band of merry mechanics. Been working at the shop ever since. It's something I'm good at, pays reasonably well, and I like the folks." He smiled at Harry. "Until Harry here showed up, I could have sworn I was the only wizard for miles."

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Harry asked. _MIT? I wonder what those degrees are… He might be able to help out with my other little project._

"The opportunity never surfaced, Harry. I apologize if you feel that I've been misleading you, but… I'd spent so long keeping it quiet…"

Harry sighed, and addressed the whole assembly, "I think one of our ground rules ought to be no keeping potentially important information from each other. And considering the altercations earlier, another one ought to be that if you can't say something productive – note, I didn't say 'nice' but 'productive' – don't say _anything_." He began to pace a bit, "I understand that Dumbledore has his own little group working on ridding us of the Dark Tosser. I also realize that many of you belong to that group. Why not just work with them, you ask?" Harry's eyes flicked to the Headmaster, "I'll answer. Most of you are here because I trust you. The rest are here because you've got information I'll need to finish things, or because you were thought to be potentially useful. Or, in Nigel's case – overheard something he really shouldn't have." He stopped pacing and turned to Nigel, "I'm not asking you to leave. Had I known earlier, you'd likely have been drafted long before now." Nigel smiled at his 'little brother.' Harry paused, glancing from Sirius to Arthur and then to Jenn. "I have some other dealings going on that a couple of you know about, and I'd like it if that's not spoken about for now." The three he glanced at nodded.

Harry removed his notebook from the bag near his chair. Tossing it at the headmaster he continued. "I've been having dreams of Voldemort," roughly half of the room winced at the use of the name. "Of him and some witch by the name of Bellatrix Lestrange. I don't know how or why I'm having these dreams, but I would like them to stop, even if they do give us useful information."

"What information is that, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking up from her notes.

Harry shrugged, "Well, for starters, he's planning something. He's mentioned a few names. It's all in the notebook. The first dream noted in the book happened just after the New Year's party. Remus was the one that suggested writing it down. Last night marked the twenty-third dream." There was a knock on the conference room door. Harry answered it. A couple of the hotel staff members pushed in some carts of tea and biscuits and finger sandwiches. Harry made sure to tip each of them generously before shutting the door behind them. "I suggest that you all read what I've got written in that notebook. While it circulates, the rest of us can take a minor break, have some tea, and get to know each other."

While the headmaster opened the notebook, the others got up and began to raid the carts of food. Harry grabbed two cups of tea and caught Sirius' and Arthur's eyes. He motioned with his head to an unoccupied corner of the room. He walked over to Nigel and handed him one of the cups of tea, "A word, if you please?"

"Sure thing, Harry." Nigel sipped at the tea and followed Harry over to where Arthur and Sirius stood. "What do you need?"

"I was just wondering what degrees you got from MIT?"

Nigel shrugged, "I ended up with a Master's in Elementary Physics as my highest degree. I'm also certified to teach. Why?"

Harry exchanged glances with Sirius and Arthur. "I don't know what you're on about, Harry." Sirius said.

Arthur just nodded. "I think, if he wants to, we could use him." Arthur knew a bit more about science than Sirius did, and though he'd not heard of MIT, he knew that Nigel was probably the best candidate to approach about Black Kettle Enterprises.

"What?" Nigel was confused.

Harry grinned. "You want to put those degrees of yours to work?"

He arched an eyebrow, "Doing what?"

"Merging magic with muggle stuff. Kind of like the Wizarding Wireless sets that already exist, but on a broader scale. I want to eventually introduce computers to the wizarding world." Harry wisely kept the rest of the company's purpose to himself.

"A magical computer? Hmm…" Nigel was suddenly interested, then lost in thought.

Sirius chuckled, "Let us know later, won't you?"

Nigel nodded absently and wandered off. Arthur tapped Harry's shoulder, "I was thinking, Harry."

"About what?"

"Well… We'll need somewhere to set up shop, so-to-speak. And we will also need a couple of employees… Oh, and I forgot to tell you that my two weeks' notice is up on Wednesday."

"And did you ask around about our other goals?" Harry asked.

Arthur nodded, "Yeah, I did. A close friend of mine is going to see about laying some groundwork for us to build from at a later date. About those employees, though…"

Harry had been nodding in agreement to what Arthur was saying, but stopped at his last comment. "Who did you have in mind?"

Arthur grinned. "Fred and George. They're always coming up with new stuff for their pranks – they really want to open a joke shop, but they haven't saved the money for it, yet. Much to Molly's relief, I might add. I think they'd jump at the chance to invent things for a living, though you'd probably lose them at some point when they did save up enough."

Harry thought for a moment. "I like the idea, Arthur, though I'd prefer to hold off on hiring them until I meet them."

"Of course, Harry. Of course." Arthur wandered back over to his wife and whispered in her ear, presumably telling her he had a job offer for their twin sons.

Ron hurried over to where Sirius and Harry still stood, Hermione close behind him. "What were you talking about with Dad?"

"Nothing much, just some stuff we've been working on. The computers and whatnot, you know?"

"Oh. Anyway, I was wondering if you were going to be in Hogsmeade next weekend."

Harry shrugged, "I'm not sure what I'll be doing then, but if I'm not busy, I'll see if I can drop by."

Hermione was talking with Sirius about the animagus transformation. Ron and Harry exchanged a look and left them to it. The talked a bit about their respective plans for the future – Ron wanted to be a healer, and Harry wanted to go into science – he didn't yet want to bring Ron in on it, not while he was still within the doubtable grasp of Dumbledore. He'd promised to set aside his feelings for the headmaster long enough to work with him, should the need arise, but he'd never said he would blindly trust the man. When it came to be Ron's turn to read the dream journal, Harry spent some time talking with Hermione, and then Andie. To Andie, he asked, "You doing anything tomorrow night?"

Andie shook her head, "No. Why?"

"Well… Sirius and I were looking to start a business and wanted your input."

"It's a plan, then. Mind if I bring Ted? His specialty is Business Law. He'd likely be of more use to you than I."

"No, I don't mind. Have a suggestion as to where to meet, though?"

Andie thought a moment. "There's a wizard-run restaurant about a block and a half from the Leaky Cauldron. It's called The Magic Menu. Mostly Italian food, with some seafood. Sound good?"

Harry nodded, "Sounds fine. Around six, then?" Andie nodded and excused herself to find her husband and let him know what was going on.

About an hour and a half later, all present had read the recording of Harry's visions. When the notebook was handed back to him, he tucked it back into his bag. "Thoughts?"

"It's scary as hell, Harry." Tonks supplied in the ensuing silence.

"Thanks for the obvious, Tonks. I was thinking more along the lines of what you think should be done about it." Harry leaned on the table.

"Aside from seeing if that info on Barty Crouch, Jr. was accurate, I don't know what else to tell you, kid." Moody said.

"I believe occlumency would be of benefit," Dumbledore mentioned. "It should allow you to block the thoughts that aren't your own." Snape nodded in agreement.

"In the broader sense, I think he ought to set about completing his OWLs and NEWTs as quickly as possible, then we'll be able to see about training Harry in some of the more advanced defensive magics." Kingsley supplied.

"I'm about ready to take the OWLs, I'm just waiting on Professor Snape to say I'm good enough at Potions." Harry replied.

"If that was all you were waiting for, Mr. Potter, I could have perhaps saved you a bit of time. You should have no problem managing a passing grade on the potions OWL." Unnoticed by anyone but Sirius, Ron's mouth dropped open in astonishment at the near-praise coming from Snape.

Sirius leaned down and whispered, "I know, I know. The slimy bat almost sounded _nice_, but close your mouth before something lands in it." Ron blushed and did so.

Harry was talking again, "In that case, then would you, Remus, see about setting up a day for the tests?"

"He ought to learn to apparate, too," Tonks said.

"We'll be getting to that," Remus answered, "And I'm sure we could get the testing out of the way sometime this week."

"What of animagus training?" Hermione asked.

Ron scoffed, "Then his form would have to get registered, Hermione. Wouldn't be much use if everyone knew about it."

"Not completely true, Ron." Andie stated, "There's a five-year moratorium on registering one's form. After that, it's a fifty-galleon fine for each month you remain unregistered." Sirius looked alarmed. Andie laughed, "Don't worry, Sirius. You had extenuating circumstances. I checked for you, the Ministry is considering your time spent at Azkaban as suspended from your five year limit, so you've still got however much time remaining that you did on entering that foul place."

Sirius did some quick calculations and grimaced, "Then I guess I owe them a hundred galleons already."

Andie quirked an eyebrow. "You became an animagus while still in school?"

Sirius shrugged and smiled a little, "I had motivation."

"As interesting as all this may be, I happen to agree. Animagus training – should he prove to have that talent – is another thing to be added once the NEWTs are out of the way." Snape said. Hermione made a note.

Ron looked thoughtful. "Hey, Harry? How good are you at chess?"

Remus laughed, "He isn't."

Harry shot a dark look at Remus, "Despite Remus' amusement, he _is_ right. I'm not good at it. Why?"

"What about other strategy games? Checkers? Backgammon?"

Harry shook his head, "Never really had the chance to play. I repeat – why?"

Ron suddenly realized that he had the entire room's attention. He flushed a bit. "Um… well… it just occurred to me that you'll need some sort of strategic thinking and whatnot…" He trailed off.

"By the gods, did something moderately comprehensible fall from Mr. Weasley's mouth?" Severus asked the ceiling.

"Professor," Harry's tone was warning, "productive comments only."

Kingsley nodded at Ron's comment, "The kid's right, though. Some lessons in strategy ought to come in handy."

"This is all well and good, but why am I learning all this?" Harry asked.

"Because, Harry," Nigel answered, "according to that prophecy Remus told us about, you've got to either kill Voldemort, or die trying. Everything you learn is going to help ensure the former and avoid the latter."

For what was likely to be the first time, Harry felt the full weight of the prophecy crash down around his ears. He'd known it before, of course, but knowing something and realizing it was true were two separate and unrelated things. "Good point," he said weakly and leaned back in his chair.

By the end of the meeting – which had continued past dinnertime, supplied by the hotel staff once more – everyone felt as though their brains were stretched to the limit. Harry, in particular, wanted nothing more to curl up and sleep for a good twelve hours or so.

* * *

**A/N2:** And this, like I said last chapter, is longer. Better, too, in my opinion. I managed to cover a lot of ground. Hope y'all enjoyed it!

Reviews are what I see in the Mirror of Erised.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** HP&Co belong to JKR&Co. Not me.

**A/N:** Sorry for the longish A/N, but I've had several people point out that Harry seems too perfect, too much like a Gary-stu. I'm going to take a moment to address these concerns: Harry has faults. Several, in fact, and if you look close enough, you can see them. One of the main ones is that he's a work-a-holic – he can't stand sitting still without having something to do. He's also a bit of a neat-freak (personally, I can't wait to get him to the Burrow!) Another one is that he's still just a seventeen year-old kid subject to the 'I know everything' syndrome that plagues teens. This hasn't been expressed much just yet, but a prime example of it is his animosity towards the headmaster. Though he's been told that Dumbledore is an intelligent man, and that he must have had his reasons for placing Harry with the Dursleys, Harry has not once asked the Headmaster what those reasons were.

In all actuality, Harry's abilities all stem from the fact that the main thing he has going for him is his mind. He's cute, I'll give you that, but he'd never make it in modeling or the movies. He's not athletic at all, in fact, he's on the short and scrawny side of barely-healthy. He only really interacts well with people he knows; Remus, Sirius, the Kellermans, the guys from the shop, his teachers. He's not very outgoing. If someone talks to him, he'll return the favor, but he's not the type to go out and meet people on his own.

Lyrith – you might not have noticed, but you really don't have much room to argue that Harry's too perfect. You're one of the people I'm basing him on! You've also pointed out how creepy you find it that all these people are so willing to help Harry… Keep in mind that the majority of them are aware of the prophesy and Harry's importance. The rest are either Harry's friends, or well-paid for their involvement. They do have other things going on in their lives, but this story centers on Harry – not them, so I don't feel that I have to include that much about them. :-P

Herein we see Harry take his OWLs, another weekend meeting with Hermione and Ron in Hogsmeade, Harry dates a bit, Chad and Moody begin working together, and much more!

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Passing Time**

On the Wednesday following the group meeting of the 24th, Harry was escorted to a shabby phone box in London by Sirius. Remus had wanted to take Harry in to take his OWLs, but Allen's shop had hit a bit of a busy stretch, and he was needed in the office. Despite having been reassured that he was ready for the tests, Harry couldn't help but feel a touch nervous.

"You alright, Pup?" Sirius asked, noticing that his godson was sporting a rather unusual shade of green.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I think so. It's just…" Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Sirius chuckled, "I think I know what you're trying to say. Your mum was a lot like this right before tests, too. The night before we all started the NEWT testing, your dad and I took turns holding her hair for her. Remus had been busy with some last-minute studying, and I can't remember where Peter was off to that night, but your dad and I had figured that if we didn't know the answers by then, then no amount of cramming was going to help. I had actually planned to spend some quality time with my girlfriend… Lemme think… That would've been Cassiopeia Witherspoon… cute little sixth-year, big… um…" Sirius shook his head, bringing himself out of his memories. "Sorry, Pup. Tell me when I'm babbling."

Harry shook his head, but realized that his godfather's rambling had also calmed his nerves, not much, but enough that he no longer felt as though his intestines were trying to escape via his sinuses. "It's okay, Sirius. Really."

Sirius smiled, "That's a bit better. Now you're just pale, not green."

Harry laughed a little. "Thanks. And why are we standing in front of a phone box?"

"It's the entrance to the Ministry, of course. Come here," Sirius beckoned as he stepped into the graffiti covered booth. Harry stepped into it behind him. "Pick up the receiver and dial 6-2-4-4-2."

Harry did so, and jumped a little when a voice reminiscent of the one that tells you 'The number you have dialed is no longer in service,' asked for his name and business. Sirius supplied, "Sirius Black and Harry Potter. OWL testing and moral support."

There was a little clink as something dropped into the change slot. Reaching in, Harry found two badges, one said _Harry Potter – OWL testing_, and the other said _Sirius Black – Tagalong_. Harry chuckled and handed Sirius his badge. As he did so, the entire box began to sink into the ground. After a short period of darkness, Harry saw that the box was moving elevator-like down a wall overlooking the entrance area of the Ministry of Magic. He saw a multitude of people standing in various queues; there were several fireplaces along one wall where people were coming and going, all looking as though they had the most important of errands to attend to; another line was waiting for use of the lift, along with what appeared to be a flock of paper airplanes hovering just overhead of the people below; yet another queue of people – many of which were carrying luggage of some sort – were waiting near a roped-off area. As Harry watched, he saw someone appear in the cordoned-off clearing and understood it to be an apparation or portkey zone. Lines of waiting people aside, there were also groups of people sitting on benches – some reading papers, some having lunch – surrounding a fountain of a wizard, a centaur, a goblin, and something else Harry couldn't readily identify. If one ignored the obvious magic, and the general size of the room in view, Harry could easily picture it as the same bureaucratic office where he had registered Viridian. _Actually, it's not that it looks anything at all like that office, it's more that it _feels_ the same. _Harry snickered. _Politics all smells the same…_

"What was that, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, "Nothing, Sirius."

"Nothing serious?"

"Isn't that what I said?"

Sirius didn't have time for a comeback, as the phone box-lift had landed. He quirked an eyebrow at Harry and strode to the shortest line in sight. After a blessedly short wait, their wands were checked and they had directions to the testing center. The bored-looking wizard barely blinked at Harry's name, though he did a double-take on hearing Sirius'. Upon arriving in the testing center a few moments and a long lift-ride later, they were greeted by a witch in her late teens or early twenties. "Good morning. Mr. Potter, I presume?" She offered Harry her hand.

Harry lightly shook her hand, "That's right, Miss…?"

She tossed a long braid of brown hair over her shoulder, "Penelope Clearwater. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter."

"Harry, please."

"Of course," she nodded to Sirius. "Mr. Black." She pointed to a couple of hardwood chairs along a wall, under a poster advocating wand-safety. "Have a seat. Your tester should be here in a couple of minutes. I'll apologize now, Mr. Black, for the lack of reading material. The apparation testers came in last week and absconded with all our magazines."

Sirius grinned, "That's no matter, I've brought my own." He pulled a thick tome that didn't boast a title on the cover out of his pocket and resized it.

Turning her attention back to Harry, she said, "According to your tutor, Mr. Lupin, you'll be testing for Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Arithmancy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Muggle Studies, Potions, and Transfiguration. Does that sound accurate?"

"Almost. Muggle Studies?" Harry turned to Sirius.

Sirius shrugged, "You needed a minimum of ten courses, Pup, and it should be an easy grade. Remus should have mentioned something…"

Harry shook his head, "Not a word."

Penelope chuckled, "I'd trust Mr. Black on this one, Harry. It's a really easy test if you know anything at all about muggle life." She grinned, "And the practical is fun, too."

Harry shrugged, "If you say so…"

Penelope nodded, "I do say so. Here," she handed him a piece of parchment. "That's your testing schedule. Most of the tests are in two parts, a written and a practical – the exceptions being Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic. All of which are written only."

Harry took a moment to memorize his schedule before tucking it into his pocket. It looked as though he would be covering both the written and practical portions for Charms, DADA, and Transfiguration today, with the tests for History of Magic, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions tomorrow, and the tests for Herbology, Muggle Studies, and Astronomy the day after. "Looks fine, though I have to wonder what Miss Hawthorn is thinking…"

"Miss Hawthorn?" Penelope asked.

Harry smiled, "She's the secretary for my muggle school. I've never missed a day of school before, and now this year – if I don't get sick – I'll be missing something like five or six days."

"In any case, for the written tests, you'll have between an hour and a half and four hours, depending on the subject. For the practical portions, there's no set time-limit, but most of them don't take longer than a half an hour. The two exceptions to that are Potions, which can take up to three hours, depending on what potion they have you do, and Muggle Studies, which… Is pretty unique to the individual."

Just as she was finishing up, the door from the hallway opened and admitted a wizard of indeterminate age, dressed in navy-blue robes. He had salt-and-pepper hair, and a leathery face, as though he had spent the vast majority of his life out in the sun and wind. "Miss Clearwater? I assume this is our independent OWL-sitter for the remainder of the week?"

"Yes, Mr. Bruce. I've just finished letting him know the general schedule, sir. Will you be wanting anything else?"

The man shook his head, "No, but I'll expect tea in an hour or two. No rush." He turned to Harry and offered his hand. "Aconite Bruce. I'll be proctoring your testing, Mr. Potter. If you'll follow me?"

Harry shook the man's hand and followed him through another door into a largish room after casting one last glance at Sirius. "You'll do fine, Pup. When you're done with the first couple, there should be a break for lunch. I'll see you then."

With that, Harry took a seat at the only desk in evidence. Mr. Bruce handed Harry a quill, "There are anti-cheating spells on the desk, chair, quill, and parchment." He laughed a little, "You'd be surprised at the lengths to which some people go, in order to get out of doing actual work. In any case, there's also a general monitoring charm on the room, so if I need to leave for anything, I can still proctor the exam. The first test of the day will be the written Charms exam, followed by the practical Transfiguration. The exam itself will appear when time starts; you will have two hours to finish this test." With that, he shot a spell at a giant clock that graced one wall, and Harry's test appeared. He flipped it over. _1. Name three charms used in animating an inanimate object._ _2. What spell is used to levitate small masses? 3. What is the difference between Wingardium Leviosa and Wingardium Geliosa?_ Harry read through all two hundred questions before penning his responses. When he finished, he still had ten minutes on the clock, and felt he had done well. He sat his pen down and waited for the proctor to reappear.

The clock chimed to signal time, the proctor entered from the door to the waiting area, a cup of tea in hand, and a cardboard box tucked under his other arm. "Finished?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. I didn't know for sure about a couple of the questions, but I think I did well."

Mr. Bruce nodded. "You've got a five minute break, but you're not to leave the room."

Harry nodded again and got up to walk around a bit. When the break was over, he was called to the desk to do a series of progressively harder transfigurations, starting with turning a needle into a matchstick and ending with turning an earthworm into a pocket-watch. The entire test took all of fifteen minutes.

Once that was out of the way, Harry again sat at the desk and was given ninety minutes for the Transfiguration written exam. He was still scribbling his last answer when the clock chimed time, luckily Harry was on the last word of the sentence. The test was followed by the DADA practical, which took twenty minutes. After that was done, he was given an hour for lunch.

Sirius looked up from his book, "All done for now?"

Harry nodded, "I have to be back in an hour for the rest of today's."

"Come on, then. Let's hunt out a spot of lunch, and you can tell me how you did."

Harry followed Sirius to the tea room and they had a couple of sandwiches. The remainder of Harry's testing that day followed much in the same vein. The following morning was a repeat of the day before, though Miss Clearwater did not make an appearance. The last day of Harry's testing began much as the previous two. The practical for Astronomy reminded Harry of the field trip he'd taken to the planetarium while studying the course at Stonewall. Since Harry's tests were all scheduled for the daytime, the proctor had set up a brilliant – in Harry's opinion – illusion over the ceiling and walls to mimic the sky as it would appear that night.

The very last test Harry took was for Muggle Studies. As with all his other written tests, the parchment scroll appeared as the proctor started the clock. Harry unrolled it with a little trepidation; he'd not actually studied this, and if it was going to be hard, Harry was going to _kill _Remus for signing him up for it. He needn't have worried. He had to bite the inside of his cheek as he read the questions. _1. What is the name of the energy muggles use in lieu of magic? 2. Name two uses for an umbrella. 3. What is the primary denomination of muggle money in Britain? 4. Why do muggles use automobiles? 5. What are 'stamps' in the muggle world? 6. What is the name of the device muggles use to talk to one another over distance?_ Though he was allowed a full four hours for this test, he finished in just under one. All one-hundred-fifty questions. When he finished, he sent a mental apology to Remus and silently agreed with Sirius – it _was_ an easy grade. He remembered what Miss Clearwater had said about the practical, though, and wondered just what it would be.

He didn't have long to wait. The proctor had been reading in a comfortable-looking brown recliner, conjured as Harry took an earlier written exam, looked up from his paper. "Done already?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah."

Mr. Bruce smiled patronizingly. "That's quite alright. A lot of wizards have difficulty with muggle things." Harry smirked, but didn't deign to correct the man. "If you'll step out into the waiting area, I'll have your practical staged in about half an hour." Harry nodded and did so.

"Almost done?" Sirius asked upon seeing his godson reenter the waiting area.

"Yes. Only have the Muggle Studies practical left."

Sirius grinned, "I don't think you'll have much trouble with it."

After what seemed to Harry to be an inordinate wait, but was in reality the promised half-hour, the proctor stepped out of the testing room. "For this practical, you'll be completely on your own. I will be giving you a series of instructions, which you will attempt to complete to the best of your ability. Your actions will be observed and graded. Whenever you are ready, you may begin by entering the testing room."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his godfather, who merely shrugged and grinned at him. Sighing, Harry opened the door to the testing area. He found himself in the combined kitchen and living area of a small flat. If the 'window' was to be believed, it was on an upper floor of a high-rise in London. The 'window' also showed it was nearing dark. The proctor's voice sounded in the room, as though coming from a hidden loudspeaker. "You see before you your place of residence. As you can see, it is nearing nighttime. Your first task is to prepare a meal with what is available. You will not be graded on what you choose for your meal, only that it be prepared the muggle way." Harry very nearly broke down laughing. _This is the practical?_

Before the gathering gloom of the room became too dark to see, he flicked the light switch on the wall next to the door. He took a few minutes to peruse the refrigerator and cupboards before gathering the ingredients to make some pasta with a cheese sauce. Though he had the ability to make something more complex – and the kitchen boasted everything from canned tuna to a live lobster in a compartment of the fridge – Harry _did_ want the test to end sometime today. When the pasta was done, the proctor's voice sounded again, "Close your eyes, the room is going to shift. We've found that those who don't do so are likely to become a trifle ill at the change." Harry followed the instruction. When he was told to open them again, he was standing on a busy street, all the people around him caught in a freeze-frame, like a video on pause. "There is a wallet at your feet, once you pick it up, the image will animate. You're to locate and purchase something from a street-vendor." Harry tried hard not to roll his eyes. It took him all of a minute to locate a newsstand and another minute to purchase a packet of gum, paid for with the smallest of bills in the wallet. It took him a moment to realize the vendor had given the wrong change, the change for a larger bill, but he rectified the situation. Once he'd given the vendor the correct amount back, the proctor told him to close his eyes one last time.

When he opened his eyes again, the testing room was back the way he'd first seen it, a largish room boasting but a single desk and chair and a massive clock on one wall. Mr. Bruce re-entered the room, smiling. "You sure you're not a muggle?"

"Sometimes I wonder." Harry replied dryly.

The proctor laughed. "Well, that concludes your testing, Mr. Potter. You can expect your results in three weeks or so."

"Thank you."

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

The following Saturday, Harry met up with Hermione and Ron at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. "Hey guys," Harry said as he slid into a seat.

"Afternoon, Harry." Hermione looked up from a book and smiled at him.

Ron nodded, "Hey. I've been wanting to ask… Just what on _earth_ are you and Dad doing? That night we all met up at the hotel, Hermione and I stayed at the Burrow for the night, and Mom and Dad were up really late talking about something. I couldn't hear quite what, but your name came up, and something about you hiring Dad for something. He quit the Ministry, for Merlin's sake!"

Harry laughed, "Oh, it's not much, Ron. Sirius and I are starting a company to research ways to combine magic and muggle technology, and, after talking with your dad, we hired him to lead our research and development department."

"Really?" Hermione asked, her book momentarily forgotten. "It sounds fascinating… Have you looked into the laws surrounding such an action?"

Nodding, Harry waived to Rosmerta. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Harry shook his head. "Yeah, Andie Tonks and her husband are looking into that for us. Once all the pertinent documents are located, Ted – Mr. Tonks – will be working for us, too. He may be a muggle, but he specializes in Business Law. Sirius and Arthur both agree that he'll be useful enough to keep on retainer until we actually start to do more than just kick around ideas."

"What can I get for you, honey?" Rosmerta asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

"A round of butterbeers, and a chicken-salad sandwich for me. Did either of you want anything to eat?" Harry looked to Hermione and Ron.

"Bowl of stew would be good," Ron said.

Hermione nodded, "That does sound good."

"So three butterbeers, a chicken-salad sandwich, and two bowls of stew. Anything else?"

"Not right now, thanks," Harry took a moment to yawn and stretch as Rosmerta walked away.

"Tired?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not really, still recovering."

"What from?" Ron looked concerned.

"Just the OWLs. Finished yesterday."

Hermione tucked her book back into her bag, "How do you think you did? And what courses did you test in?"

Harry shrugged, "I think I did alright. Took Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Astronomy. Um… History of Magic, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration. Oh, yeah. Remus also signed me up to test for Muggle Studies."

"Muggle Studies?" Ron asked. "Of what use is a Muggle Studies OWL?"

Harry shrugged, "I've no idea, but the test was probably the easiest one I've ever come across – muggle or wizarding. Sirius said that Remus signed me up for it 'cause I needed ten courses."

Hermione nodded. "Independent testers for OWLs need a minimum of ten courses. For the NEWTs, you'll need at least seven."

Ron arched an eyebrow at her, "Where do you store it?"

"Store what?" Hermione asked.

"All that useless trivia." Ron said, making sure his shins were safely out of kicking range.

Hermione scowled at him. "It isn't useless."

Harry smirked, "Look at it this way, Hermione. If there's ever a wizarding version of Jeopardy, you'd be sure to win."

Hermione crossed her arms, "Ooh! You two… Just… Ppbht!" She stuck her tongue out at them. Ron and Harry shared a look and broke down into laughter.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

On February fourth, Harry stopped at the shop on his way home from school. He was going to see when Remus was going to start his apparation training, and see if there was anything Allen needed done around the shop. He didn't get much farther than the waiting area adjacent to the office. A pretty girl around his age was scowling at her mobile phone. She had long brown hair pulled into a ponytail and large blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, and was wearing a yellow sweater and jeans. A fluffy white coat was sitting with a black backpack in the chair next to her. "Bloody hell. No one's home." She seemed to be talking to her phone.

Remus looked up from the computer and saw Harry staring at the customer. He smirked, then schooled his expression into something more neutral. "I can call you a cab, Miss White."

The girl shook her head, "No… no. I'm sure someone will answer."

Harry cleared his throat, "Remus?"

"Harry," Remus nodded at him. "Did you need something?"

Harry's mind was momentarily blank. "Um…"

Remus grinned. "I know Allen doesn't need any additional help, if that's what you stopped by for. This is Amelia White, by the way. She's having some trouble with her car."

"Hi." The girl looked up from her phone.

Harry swallowed, idly wondering why he was having trouble getting his mind to work. "I'm Harry."

"So I caught. You have a last name, sweetie?" Amelia flipped her ponytail over her shoulder.

"Potter." _Stupid, stupid, stupid. It's just a girl. Talk, damnit!_

The girl stood up and offered her hand, "Good to meet you, Harry."

Harry shook her hand, "Likewise."

"I haven't seen you around before."

Harry shook his head, "I work a bit. Between that and school, I don't get all that much spare time. Where do you go to school?"

Seeing that Harry had things well in hand, Remus turned back to his game of solitaire on the computer, keeping one ear on the conversation between Harry and Amelia. _This sounds promising…_

"West Chesterly. I'm looking forward to finishing up this spring. You?" Amelia's voice was friendly and had an indiscernible quality to it that Harry thought quite attractive.

"Stonewall. I'm finishing up this spring, too." Harry motioned to the chairs.

Amelia sat back down and pulled her coat and bag into her lap. "So, Harry, what are you doing here?"

Harry sat in the cleared chair. "I just stopped by to see if Allen – he's the owner and my foster-dad – needed any help. I've been working here since I was fifteen… So, two years or so."

"That's cool. I wanted to get a job when I was fifteen, but my mom wouldn't let me until last summer. I ended up waiting tables over at Kirby's Diner. Do you like working here?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. I've learned a lot, working here. And the other guys are good to hang out with, too."

Amelia laughed, "God, I can't imagine hanging out with any of the people I work with. The other waitresses are all around the same age as my grandmother, and the cook is just… I think 'psycho' is the word I want. He's about twenty-five or so, but he keeps hitting on me all the time and asking if I want to go clubbing with him."

"He doesn't sound that bad."

"That's what you think, but I don't think he showers, _ever._ And I know he spends his breaks out behind the diner smoking pot."

Harry grimaced, "Remind me to never eat there."

"Alright. Harry, don't ever eat there." Amelia giggled.

Harry laughed, too. "Who were you trying to call?"

Amelia shook her head, "What?"

"When I came in, you were looking at your phone like it'd done you a personal wrong. I was just wondering who you were trying to call."

Amelia shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Someone. _Anyone_. I wasn't having much luck. No one I know that has a car was answering their phone."

"Where did you need to go?" Harry asked.

"Nowhere important, just home. They said my car wouldn't be ready until tomorrow. I'd take a taxi, but I really don't care much for public transportation. You never know what's been done to the surface you're expected to sit on, and I easily get ill."

_Come on, Cub. You've almost got it… just one more question…_ Remus moved the queen of hearts onto the king of spades, still listening to Harry and Amelia. "I've got a truck… If you wanted, I mean, I could, you know, take you home." _Finally! Almost right, Cub. You should have offered to take her to dinner, though…_ Remus shrugged. _Meh, you'll get it eventually._

Amelia smiled at Harry. "I think I'd like that, Harry."

Harry got to his feet, and held a hand out to Amelia. The pair left, chatting about what they wanted to do after they were done with school. "Was that what I think it was?"

Remus jumped at Allen's voice. "Don't do that! And yeah, I think it was what you thought."

Allen snickered and shook his head. "It's about time that boy started thinking about something besides work and school and magic."

Remus nodded his head in agreement.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

Chad wasn't quite sure what to think of the man that he was expected to work with. He seemed overly paranoid, jumpy, and altogether crazy – though he did appear to be rather intelligent and obviously knew what he was talking about. _Alastor Moody. Where do these people dig up these nutty names?_ Chad lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. "Come now, old boy, it can't be as bad as all that."

Chad quirked an eyebrow at Moody. "What?"

Moody smiled, "Most folks I know only smoke if stressed… This isn't all that stressful. Never much liked the sit-and-wait part of the job, you know? Much preferred to actually be doing something _useful_."

"So it would seem," Chad indicated the plethora of visible scars adorning his companion.

Moody shook his head and turned back to the notes Chad had taken during his multiple interviews of both Dumbledore and Snape. "You said you got most of this from Dumbledore, right?"

Chad nodded, "Yeah. The man was collecting memories of people that knew Riddle growing up. That guy was seriously messed up, even as a kid." Chad finished his cigarette and ground it out. "I honestly don't know if we _can_ predict his actions. It's hard to anticipate madness."

Moody nodded, "I know, but I don't think he's completely crazy. If he were, he wouldn't be planning."

"How's that? I know of plenty of people that are nuttier than fruitcakes that are cognizant enough to make plans. Doesn't mean those plans _actually_ work, but they do make them, nonetheless."

Moody pulled a blank notebook over and started doodling while he spoke, "It all goes back to the magic factor, sonny. If a witch or wizard loses their grasp on reality – goes completely around the bend – they become incapable of rational thought. I don't pretend to understand everything about it; I'm not a mediwizard."

Chad groaned, "Great." He leafed through another stack of notes. After a few minutes of silence, he sighed. "So… You're supposed to be helping with all this magic shit. What do you have so far?"

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

The alarm beeped incessantly. Turning it off, he blinked angrily at the ceiling. _How did this happen? How in the _hell_ did this bloody happen?_ He stretched and rolled out of bed. He grabbed his robe off the back of the bedroom door and headed for the bath. After he was showered and dressed, he met Aunt Marge for breakfast. "Morning, Dudley. Sleep well?" she asked while feeding Ripper a rasher of bacon off her plate.

_I hate these ruddy dogs._ Dudley smiled, "Yes. You?"

Marge nodded, then proceeded ignoring Dudley for the remainder of the morning. After he'd finished breakfast, Dudley pulled on his coat and disappeared for the remainder of the day. He refused to go to school. Ever since his mom and dad had been arrested, even his friends were giving him a hard time. _It's all Potter's fault! He runs away over the summer, and then look what happens! Mum and Dad are the ones to get into trouble!_ He kicked at the ground. _It's all his damnable fault!_

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

"Now, this isn't something that can be learned simply through studying, Mr. Potter." Minerva peered through her spectacles at Harry.

"Harry, please, professor." Harry was at Hogwarts for his animagus training. Though Sirius had wanted to help him with the animagus transformation, he wasn't a teacher. After three sessions wherein Harry learned a lot about the Marauders, but nil about the transformation, Remus contacted Dumbledore, who set up classes three times a week with Professor McGonagall. "And I've noticed it can't be learned from books. Hermione said you recommended a book, which I've read a couple of times, and it just didn't click."

"Ah, that would be Volk's 'The Beast Within.' Believe it or not, it is the best guide out there." The professor offered Harry a tin of ginger newts. Harry took one, and so did Minerva. "The main thing to keep in mind while starting is that the form you ultimately become isn't something you decide on, it's determined by your personality and innate talents. It has little to do with your House or, if you have one, your patronus form."

"Patronus?" Harry asked.

"The spell used to ward off dementors. You'll likely be taught it at some point. The form your patronus takes is more of an animal representation of who or what you see as a protector. This usually doesn't have a bearing on the animagus transformation. Another thing to keep in mind is that all animagus transformations are normal animals. Regardless of your personality, you will not become a dragon, unicorn, grindylow or any other magical creature."

Harry finished his newt, nodding. "Makes sense. I have to wonder what I'll be, though."

"The first step is a moderately difficult potion. It will do two things; firstly, it will determine whether or not you have the ability to complete the transformation, and if so, it will then reveal your form. Once you know your form, you will need to research the animal in detail. You will need to learn its biology, its habits, its place in whatever ecosystem it hails from. Also, if its something exotic, you will want to research any ownership laws pertaining to the creature, just in case someone notices something odd and reports it to the authorities."

Harry snickered at the thought of something like a lion or cobra being seen in Little Whinging. "Yeah, I can see how that would be necessary."

"This evening, Professor Snape has agreed to oversee your production of the potion element. Do you know where his office is?"

Harry nodded, "I think so. I've been there once before, but I think I got a little lost the last time."

Minerva smiled, "The dungeons are a touch… mazelike, aren't they? Are you familiar with the 'Point Me' spell?"

Harry shook his head. "No. How's it go?"

Minerva showed Harry the simple locator spell and described the shortest route to locate the Potion Master's office.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

"So, Cub, how'd the lesson with Minerva go?" Remus asked that night over dinner.

Harry shrugged, "Wasn't much of a lesson, truth be told. I actually spent most of the session brewing the animagus potion with Professor Snape."

Sirius tried not to let his curiosity get the better of him, but failed miserably, "Do you know what form you'll be?"

Harry laughed, as did Jenn. Nodding, Harry said, "Yes, but I'm not telling."

Sirius' expression turned pleading. "Please?"

_May it not be said he doesn't have the 'puppy' look down pat._ "Nope. And you know, your face will stick that way someday."

Sirius scowled and turned to Remus. "Is he always like this?"

"Yes." Both Jenn and Remus answered simultaneously. "You get used to it after a while." Remus supplied.

"Yeah. I don't hardly notice his oddness anymore." Jennifer smiled.

"Why me?" Sirius asked the ceiling.

"Because you must have done something bad in a past life." Harry pointed out.

"I can't think of a single thing that I might have done to warrant having to put up with _you_," Sirius teased back.

Harry laughed and returned his attention to his chicken. "Where's Allen and Chad?" he asked Jenn. "They haven't managed to kill each other, have they?"

Jenn shook her head, smiling. "Not that I'm aware of. Chad's working with that Moody fellow, and Allen's helping Mike fix the furnace over at Mike's place. Said he should be home around eight or nine, if he and Mike don't go to the pub for a pint or two."

The remainder of the meal passed relatively quickly, and Harry excused himself to his room to finish up his homework. He was three pages into the assigned reading for his history class when his cell rang. "Hello?"

"Hi, Harry?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Amelia. You gave me that ride the other day…"

Harry grinned and moved from his desk to the bed. "I remember. How are you?"

"Not bad. You?"

"Likewise."

There was some muted voices in the background of Amelia's end of the line. "Hang on a tick, would you?"

"Sure." There was the sound of a phone being set down and some talking, of which Harry only caught a couple of words. Then he heard the phone be picked back up.

"Sorry. My little sister's being a pest. Had to throw her out of my room."

Harry chuckled. "Not a problem."

"I was wondering if you were doing anything Saturday night?"

"Tomorrow-Saturday or next week's Saturday?" Harry asked.

"Tomorrow."

"Not that I'm aware of, why?"

"It's just that my cousin got a couple of tickets to go see a concert, but now she's come down ill and won't be able to go. I figured it'd be a fair trade, a ride there for a ticket in."

_Did she just ask me out?_ Harry coughed. "Um…"

"You don't have to go, I mean… It's just that… Well… It's my favorite band and I've got that extra ticket and all…"

Harry laughed. "No, I mean, yes. I'd love to go with you. Who's playing?"

"Pearl Jam. They're American."

"I've heard of them. They did that song where the video got banned from MTV in the States, didn't they? The one where the kid kills himself in front of his class at the end."

"Yeah. The song's 'Jeremy.'"

"Sounds fun. I've never been to a concert before."

"Really? I've only been to a couple. As in, two. Last summer." She laughed. _And such a nice laugh it is, too._

"What time should I pick you up?"

"The concert starts at nine, and we'll want to be there about an hour early…"

"So, around six? If we're too early, we can always grab a bite to eat beforehand."

"Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow."

"See you. Bye." Harry clicked off. _A concert. Nifty._ He no longer felt as though he could concentrate on his homework, so he bounced off the bed and down the stairs. Sirius and Remus were playing chess in the lounge with the set Harry'd been given for his birthday. "Hey."

Sirius looked up from the board and noticed Harry's enormous grin. "What's got you so happy?"

"I'm going to a concert tomorrow evening."

"Oh?" Remus asked, "With whom?"

"The girl from the shop on Wednesday."

"Miss White?" Remus glanced at Sirius.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. She just called."

Sirius slowly smiled. "You're going to a concert?"

"I believe I just said that."

"With a member of the female persuasion?"

"Do you know another definition of the word 'girl' that I'm unaware of?" Harry was a touch confused.

"Without parents? Or an older sibling?" Sirius asked another maddening question.

"Yeah. Are you coming to the point before the end of this century?"

Sirius turned to Remus. "He doesn't get it, does he?"

Remus shook his head, mock sadness evident on his face, "Alas, dear Padfoot, methinks he doth not."

Sirius turned back to Harry. "You _do_ realize, don't you, that's the very definition of 'date,' right?"

Harry's grin faltered. He paled. "It is, isn't it?" He swallowed thickly. "Remus? Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"Help?" Harry squeaked.

Sirius and Remus laughed.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

"Have you determined his location, Bella?"

Bellatrix nodded, "In part, milord. My nephew reports that he sporadically shows up at Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, as well. He further reports rumors that the boy will be taking his NEWTs with the current seventh-years this spring."

The Dark Lord nodded, "And what of when he is not in Hogsmeade? Have you located his home address?"

Bellatrix cringed, "Not as yet, milord."

"You disappoint me, Bellatrix. Time grows short. I want him found by the end of the month!"

"Yes, milord." Bellatrix bowed and hurried out of the room. _How am I to locate someone in the muggle world? Aurors still search for me, so I can't locate him magically… They're sure to have an alert on my signature._ Bella sighed and rubbed her temples. _I don't dare disappoint milord again. It's only his current state of weakness that keeps him from unleashing his disappointment now, if I fail to locate Potter, I'm sure the probable punishment will be far beyond what I can imagine…_ That was the main difficulty in serving Voldemort. If he didn't punish you for a transgression immediately, said punishment became exponentially worse with each subsequent transgression. And he had a _long_ memory, so there was no hoping that he'd forget. _Maybe Cissa will have some ideas._

Bellatrix scrounged up some parchment and a pen and sent a quick owl to her sister. With luck, Mrs. Malfoy would be at the Manor, and not off on one of her frequent trips to France or Greece.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

Harry woke up late Saturday morning. He was a little at a loss to explain why, when he suddenly remembered the phone call from Amelia the night before, and the subsequent hours of worrying. He went from the pleasant relaxation of barely-awake to slightly nauseous and highly nervous in a matter of moments. Glancing at his alarm clock, he noticed it was nearing nine. _Eight hours… What am I supposed to do for eight bloody hours?_ He got out of bed and meandered towards the shower.

Afterwards, he went to the kitchen, intent on breakfast. There was a note from Remus on the marker-board on the fridge saying that he'd be over at Sirius' for most of the day. Jenn had also noted that she'd be working in the office on a project for Maxis, and she wasn't to be disturbed. Harry sighed and poured himself a cup of tea and made some toast. _So much for hoping one of them would be able to distract me…_

He was just finishing up his breakfast when there was a tapping on the kitchen window. Looking up, he saw a large brown barn owl standing on the windowsill. He got up, opened the window, and the owl fluttered over to his chair at the kitchen table. Harry offered the bird the last of his toast and took the heavy parchment envelope. The owl ate the crust quickly, bowed its head to Harry, and flew back out the window. Harry closed the window behind it. He then turned his attention to the envelope. _Wonder what this is?_ It was addressed to him in a dark blue ink, and had an unfamiliar wax seal holding it closed. Shrugging, he broke the seal and opened the letter.

_7 February, 1998  
__Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Attached you will find your results for your recent independent completion of the Ordinary Wizarding Level tests. Should you decide to continue independent study in any of the areas wherein a passing grade was achieved, please be aware that a minimum of seven subjects will be needed to take NEWT-level tests, unless testing occurs within the guidelines of an established scholastic venue. Should you decide to continue your education at one of the magic schools within the United Kingdom, a minimum of five subjects will be needed. If this is the course of action you wish to pursue, you may write for information on the schools available, though it remains your responsibility to contact any and all schools that you are interested in. If you decide to continue your education outside the UK, it will be your own responsibility to locate information on schools not subject to Ministry of Magic guidelines. Likewise, if education outside of the UK is what you wish to seek, please contact the Department of Educational Standards to review what courses are recognized on British soil._

_Sincerely,  
__Aconite Edvard Bruce  
__Head of the Department of Educational Standards_

All thoughts and worries of his impending date that evening fled his mind as Harry flipped to the second sheet of parchment.

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**

_Pass Grades ...Fail Grades  
_Outstanding (O)... Poor (P)  
Exceeds Expectations (E) ...Dreadful (D)  
Acceptable (A) ...Troll (T)

_Harry James Potter has achieved:  
_Ancient Runes... E  
Arithmancy ...O  
Astronomy... E  
Charms ...O  
Defense Against the Dark Arts ...O  
Herbology ...A  
History of Magic... A  
Muggle Studies ...O  
Potions ...O  
Transfiguration ...E

It is noted that the examiner stated if there were a higher grade  
possible, it would have been achieved on the Muggle Stuidies exam.

_All-in-all, it looks rather like my report card from Stonewall._ Harry snickered at the thought of Mr. Eindelberg teaching Transfiguration in the physics lab and Mr. Jonas teaching the fall of Grindelwald alongside the development of the atomic bomb. He folded the letter and stuck it back into the envelope, then tucked all of it into his pocket. Figuring that both Sirius and Remus would want to know his results, he located his trainers and coat. Ignoring the light snowfall, he jogged to Sirius' house and rapped on the door.

"Morning, Harry. What brings you by?" Sirius answered the knock.

Harry grinned, "I got my results just now."

Sirius grabbed Harry's shoulder and pulled him through the door. "Come on, then, let's not keep Moony waiting!"

"Hey!" Harry protested at being manhandled into the sitting room. "Geroff me!"

Sirius ignored his godson's protests and shoved him into a chair. He held his hand out expectantly, "Come on, Pup, hand 'em over."

Remus looked up from the game board on the coffee table at Harry's abrupt entrance. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Harry got his OWL results and was just about to share them." Sirius was acting more like a kid than he had on Christmas. That was, if his grin was anything to go by.

Remus brightened, "That was quick. Come on, Harry. Let's see them."

Harry shook his head at the antics of both his tutor and godfather. _Should I feel older than they are?_ He withdrew the now slightly-battered envelope and handed it to Sirius. Sirius pouted, "You opened it without _us_?"

Harry nodded, "Well… yeah. They are _my_ results, you know."

"Whatever," Remus waived Harry off for the moment and bounded out of his seat to read the parchment over Sirius' shoulder.

"Wow." Sirius breathed.

"My sentiments, exactly." Remus looked up from the parchment. "We should frame it, you know."

Sirius grinned. "I know. You want to do the honors, or should I?"

Remus returned Sirius' grin and pulled out his wand before Harry could protest. "_Permanente framus il documento._" A golden oak frame, complete with wire hangar and glass, appeared around the parchment. Sirius took it and tapped the mortar between two bricks above the fireplace with his wand – causing a small hook to appear – and hung it.

Remus wiped away an imaginary tear, "They grow up so fast, don't they Padfoot?"

"They do indeed, Moony." Sirius' mock-solemn expression faded into an evil grin. "Do you know what I just realized?"

Remus shook his head. "I shudder to even _ponder_ what your mind is capable of."

"Guys?" Harry tried to get their attention. He didn't like where this was going one bit.

"He's got a date tonight," Sirius ignored Harry.

Remus echoed Sirius' grin, "He does at that, doesn't he?"

"Pictures would be best," Sirius said.

"Guys?" Harry tried again.

"I know where some are…" Remus smirked.

"There was one in particular, though," Sirius grew wistful.

"Which one? His first birthday, the one with the plush quaffle, or the one in the bath?"

Sirius brightened, "You have all of them, don't you?"

It suddenly dawned on Harry what his godfather and the werewolf were planning on doing. "NO!" he shouted, "God, guys! NO!"

Remus and Sirius turned as one to Harry and asked, "Why not?" before breaking into gales of laughter at the look of horror on Harry's face.

Harry scowled at them both, "Because I said so! And because Amelia's a muggle, and I don't think she'd even know what a quaffle was! And aren't wizarding photographs more like snippets of soundless movies? I think that might just clue her in on a few things I thought we wanted kept quiet!"

Sirius' expression fell, "True, true." He sighed, "It's a shame, though."

"But the look on his face made it more than worth it, Padfoot." Remus pointed out.

Sirius smiled, "It did, didn't it?"

Harry groaned and grabbed a throw-pillow. He screamed as hard as he could into it. When he was done, he looked back up at Remus and Sirius. "Wow, Moony. Another one."

"Should you tally it, or will I?"

"I will." Sirius incanted something in what sounded like Hindustani, and a glowing scoreboard appeared with '58' on it. He tapped it once, and the number rolled to '59.' "Hmm…" Sirius examined the board. "One more and we'll break sixty."

Remus shrugged, "Looks like we'll just have to try harder in the future."

Harry blinked at the glowing numbers. "Dare I ask what that is?"

Sirius banished the scoreboard, "It's a running tally of how many people the Marauders have managed to irritate to mindless screaming."

Harry didn't know whether to punch his godfather or start laughing hysterically, so he did neither. Instead, he took a deep breath, counted silently to ten, and slowly let it out. He noticed the game laid out on the coffee table. "What's this?" he asked. The board looked rather like a Risk game, but the pieces were moving about, and was that a miniature campfire he spotted on Antarctica?

"Conqueror's March. It's a lot like muggle Risk, but can be played with two people. Risk is always the most fun with four or more people." Remus answered.

"It looks like fun," Harry said.

"It is. Did you want us to teach you how to play?" Sirius asked.

"Sure."

It took them a couple of minutes to re-set the board, and the three of them spent the remainder of the morning and most of the afternoon playing.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

"Harry?" Jenn knocked on Harry's bedroom door.

"Just a second, Jenn." Harry pulled on his bathrobe. The clock indicated that he still had forty minutes before he had to go pick up Amelia. He opened the door. "Whacha need?"

"You left your phone in the kitchen. Amelia just called. She wanted you to call her back." Jenn handed over the phone. "You didn't tell me you had a date tonight."

Harry grimaced, "Sorry. Thought I had, but now that I think about it, I only told Sirius and Remus. It's okay, right?"

Jenn smiled, "I suppose so. Where were you going? The girl mentioned something about a concert."

"Yeah, a Pearl Jam concert in London."

Jennifer nodded and sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "Anyone else going with you?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't think so. Amelia didn't mention anyone else."

"Do you know what time the concert is supposed to let out?"

"Yeah, I checked it online. It starts at nine and goes until midnight. We were going to try to grab a bite to eat beforehand."

"Where?"

Harry shrugged, "'No' and 'idea' spring to mind."

"It's too late to get reservations at anyplace fancy, and you don't want to insult the poor girl by going to McDonalds or Burger King –"

"Why not? I mean… It's just a concert."

Jenn chuckled, "Oh Harry, you really have no idea what you're getting into, do you? You like her, right?"

"Well… yeah. I don't think I'd be going with her if I didn't like her. But what's that to do with anything?" Harry sat in his desk chair.

"Just pointing out that if it goes well tonight, she'll want to go out with you again."

Harry paled. "Again? This stress again?"

Jenn laughed, "It does get easier with repetition. You've not had a date before, have you?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope."

Jenn sighed and motioned him to stand up. "Come on, let's get you ready." Harry followed her to his closet, which he hadn't added all that much to since his original outing for clothes back when he first moved in with the Kellermans. She pulled the chain to turn on the light. "You really don't care for shopping much, do you?"

Harry shrugged, "It's not too bad, I've just been a bit busy. Haven't had the time."

"Remind me to take you to the mall next weekend. You should have more than a week's worth of clothes."

"So… what do you have in mind?"

Jenn thumbed through the sparse selection available. "Hmm… A full suit would likely be too formal for the concert. I'm somewhat familiar with the band. Likewise, you don't want to just show up in jeans and a t-shirt… There's got to be something that will work that's nicely between the two extremes." Within ten minutes, Jenn pulled out one of the white shirts that went with Harry's school uniforms, a pair of jeans, the navy jacket to his suit, and his dress-shoes. Harry quirked an eyebrow at the selection. Jenn had managed to pick something so quickly when he'd been staring at the contents of his closet for the last half-hour. She stepped out of the room, allowing Harry to dress in privacy. When he signaled that he was dressed, Jenn returned. She took one look at Harry and shook her head.

"Lose the jacket." While Harry did so, she shouted down the hall, "Remus! A little help, please!"

Remus came running, wand in hand, assuming something was either about to fall and break or was on fire. "What?"

"Can you change the color of Harry's shirt for the night?" Jenn smiled.

Remus took a deep breath to calm his pulse, "Is that what the shouting was for? I thought for sure someone was about to be maimed, at the least."

Jenn waived a hand, "Sorry, but we are in a bit of a hurry here. Harry's got to leave in about half an hour, and I still have to tackle that bird's nest he calls his hair."

"Understood. What color did you want it?"

"Can you match his eyes?" Jenn asked.

Remus nodded and tapped Harry's shirt cuff. A blotch of green a touch lighter than his eyes appeared and spread over the shirt. Where it came across a button, the button darkened from a clearish white to a shiny dark green. "Perfect," Jenn proclaimed.

"I don't know, he looks a bit unfinished," Remus said.

"Hmm…" Jenn walked in a circle around Harry. "I see what you mean. Harry, roll up your sleeves, just to the elbow."

Harry did so, wondering for a moment if this was how dolls felt in the hands of little girls. "What next?"

Remus looked thoughtful, "Wait here a sec, Cub." He hurried out of the room. Harry looked to Jenn, who shrugged. After a minute or so, Remus reappeared with a wooden case the size of a cigar box. He opened it with a tap of his wand. It was obviously larger on the inside than it was on the out, as Remus reached into it nearly up to the elbow. "Here it is!" He withdrew a box, slightly smaller than the wooden one, but about twice as deep and covered in red plush. "I expect these back, Cub, but you can borrow them for tonight." He handed Harry the box.

Harry opened it. "Wow." It contained a thick bracelet made of what Harry assumed to be platinum, since Remus couldn't wear silver. It was approximately two inches wide, and tooled to look like interwoven strands of rope. On the front, there was a circular piece of tiger's eye. Under the wrist cuff, there was a matching pendant on a thick chain. "Thanks, Moony." He slipped on the cuff and pendant.

"Much better," Jenn said before grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him towards the master bath. "Come on, we still have about fifteen minutes to tame that mess of yours."

Harry tossed the red box to Remus before being pulled completely out of the room. Remus caught it and followed Jenn, chuckling the entire way.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

'_Check out muggle archives.' What in Merlin's name did Cissa mean? _Bellatrix pulled the muggle coat she was wearing tighter. _She's got to be joking! Muggle archives? Where would they keep those?_ She scowled at the clear night's sky overhead. It was numbingly cold. _Come on, Bella. Think this through. If I were a muggle, where would I store information on where people lived?_ She shuddered at the thought of being a muggle. _They don't have magic, so… I don't know!_ Bellatrix stomped through a patch of slush on the sidewalk. Looking up, she noticed one of the businesses in Little Hangleton was still open. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't having much luck working it out on her own, so she might as well just ask a muggle. She was close enough to Voldemort that she should have enough time to bully someone into telling her what to look for, if they didn't help her voluntarily. She'd _Imperio_ the blasted muggle, if she had to, and then ride her Dark Mark back to her lord. She grinned, happy that she had a plan, however tenuous.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

Harry called Amelia while on his way to her place. He let her know that he was on his way and that he was sorry he couldn't call her sooner. She promised to be ready before he showed up. When Harry pulled into the driveway, he found himself greeted by a blonde ten-year-old. "Are you 'Melia's boyfriend?" the girl asked.

Harry shrugged, "I'm Harry, is Amelia ready?"

"Dunno. Come on," the girl grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him towards the house. _I'm starting to get a little tired of being dragged around like this._ "Mum! 'Melia! He's here!" The girl shouted upon opening the door.

"In the sitting room, Charlotte!" a woman shouted back.

Harry allowed the girl to pull him to the parlor where a tall woman that looked quite a lot like an older Amelia greeted him. "Good evening. You're Harry, correct?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

The woman smiled at him. "Thanks for bringing her home the other day. I'm Patricia White, but please call me Patty. Amelia should be down in a moment."

"Thank you, Patty."

The little girl tugged on her mom's sleeve. Patty leaned down to hear what Charlotte wanted. She smiled at her daughter. "I know, honey, I like him, too." Harry was obviously meant to hear it, as it was spoken in a stage-whisper. He could feel a blush creep up his neck. Luckily, he was saved from having to make conversation by the appearance of Amelia.

She was wearing a denim skirt and a pair of what looked to be fuzzy boots, along with a black sweatshirt. She smiled at Harry, who had obviously attempted to make his hair look like it was messy on purpose. "Hey."

Harry smiled at her, "Hey. You look good."

"Thanks. You, too."

Patty interrupted them, "If you were going to go have something to eat, you'd best be going." She started to shoo them out the door. "Be home no later than two, Amelia!" She shouted just as they were getting into the truck.

"Will do, Mum!" Amelia hollered back. She waived as they backed out the driveway.

Two hours later, they were finishing up dinner at a diner not far from where the concert was going to be held. Harry paid the tab and then they finally – _finally_ – arrived. Harry could see right away why Amelia insisted that they arrive an hour early. The sheer quantity of people available made Harry want to find the nearest empty room and hide. Most of them were either in their teens or early twenties, though he did spot an older couple who looked like they'd be more at home at an opera. It didn't take long for them to find their seats. After that, Harry treated Amelia to a couple of things from the vendors, including a t-shirt and CD. He debated on getting a CD for himself, but decided against it for now. He wasn't _that _familiar with the group, after all.

After what simultaneously felt like both forever and next to no time at all, Amelia and Harry were in their seats and the house lights dimmed. Harry thought for a moment that he'd gone deaf, the sudden cheering from the crowd was that loud. Luckily, they toned down after a moment or so, and the music started. Harry found that he rather liked most of the mellower music they did, but didn't care for the harsher songs they played. In a pause between songs, he told that to Amelia. She recommended their album 'Ten.' Harry made a mental note to buy it before they left.

The concert wound to a close, Harry bought his CD, and was walking with Amelia back to the parking garage when he heard a voice behind him that he'd thought he'd put firmly in his past.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the freak."

Harry stopped and slowly turned around, "Dudley."

"What are you doing here, freak?" Dudley sneered at Harry.

"Harry?" Amelia tugged on Harry's arm. "Who's that?"

"Dudley Dursley. He's my cousin."

Dudley had closed the distance between them in the time it took Harry to answer Amelia's question. "You the freak's girlfriend?" He leered at Amelia.

"Let's just go, Harry," she whispered.

"Where are your manners, freak? Introduce me to the pretty girl." Dudley grinned. "Or is it that you know she'll run screaming when she realizes what a freak you really are?"

Harry sighed, "Dudley, please. Don't be like that."

"Like what? You're lucky I don't just pound you into the sidewalk. It's your fault Mum and Dad are in jail."

Harry shook his head, wishing momentarily that he'd had the foresight to bring his wand with him. "No, it isn't, Dudley. They put themselves there. It's your ignorance that can't see that."

Dudley spit on the ground. "No, freak, it was your fault. We'd all still be living on Privet Drive, if not for you."

Amelia could see things were rapidly degenerating. She stepped between Harry and Dudley. "Dudley, is it?"

"You got it, doll." He smirked at her.

The smile made her skin crawl. "I don't know what you're talking about, but could you leave it for another time? Please?"

"Yeah, Dudley, leave us for now. You can… how'd you put it? 'Pound me into the sidewalk' some other time." Harry was slowly backing away.

"I don't think so, freak!" Something dark flashed across Dudley's rotund face. "You called me stupid, and you should remember you don't get away with that!" He shoved Amelia out of the way. That was the last thing Harry remembered before Dudley's right fist connected with Harry's left temple and the world disappeared into blackness.

**SECTION BREAK (THE DAMN LINE THINGIE AIN'T WORKIN')**

**A/N2:** I know it's been way, way, _way_ too long since I last updated, but I'm currently without internet access, so I'm writing this without access to verifiable information. Ergo, any issues with anything are to be blamed on the fact that I don't have access to the Lexicon or any other source of information. I had to search for a good fifteen minutes to find the section of HBP where Harry received his OWLs.

To make up for all that, this is, as you can see, a much longer chapter.

Also, FF is being a bitch, and won't let me use the section break lines, so I apologise for the text. It also messed up my formatting for Harry's report card, but I figured I fixed that well as I could without going over the one-hour limit at the library (which, incidently, is almost a full twenty miles from where I now live. My life sucks.)

Reviews make me smile and laugh.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** Anything recognizable ain't mine. I also want to remind people that this is an AU fic. That means 'ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.' Any deviations from canon are usually purposeful – unless it's something really stupid on my part, like saying that Draco has red hair or that Shacklebolt is Asian.

**A/N:** I'm still without a reliable internet connection. I have to admit that I had no idea my IPod would come in handy as something other than an MP3 player when I got it. I've had most of this chapter written for the better part of two months, but… I no longer have reliable transportation, either, and well… Real life **_sucks_**. I didn't even get to read the reviews for the last chapter until I arrived, ready to post this one. Thank you all for your attention to the fic. I write because the words won't leave me alone, but it is your input that makes me think I have a shot at being a real author someday. Sniff. You guys all rock!

Yes, yes, yes, I realize I screwed up on Penelope Clearwater in the last chapter. I'm sorry, but it had been _so_ long since I wrote the chappie wherein I detailed the basilisk that I'd forgotten just _who_ all I killed off. I went in and corrected it in my files and once I get some bills paid off (now that I've _finally_ found a job) I'll re-post the chapter (not the last chapter, but the first one where I only mention her in passing – it's easier to correct a single name than to re-write the whole OWL scene, especially since I'm really happy with that scene.) Y'all can probably start looking for regular updates once again in about three or four months – you'd be amazed at the amount of bills that pile up when you've been unemployed for ten months and unable to draw unemployment.

In this chapter we will see the aftermath of Harry's confrontation with Dudley, some more of Chad and Moody, and Harry finds out why Chad and Allen hate each other.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Finding What Was Needed**

Bellatrix entered the small, smoky pub. Her first assumption that _all_ the Little Hangleton businesses were closed had proven false when she reached the edge of town and saw muted light streaming through dirty windows. There were about seven or eight people present; two couples were chatting quietly at tables and some older men were nursing pints of bitter at the bar. The bartender was turning a dial on a strange, glowing box. He looked over his shoulder at Bella, "Be with you in a tick, have a seat anywhere." Bella mentally shrugged and sat at the end of the bar directly across from the glowing box. With supreme effort of will, she managed to keep from shuddering – _Blasted muggle place… How I long for the days when milord rules, then we can finally be rid of these animals_.

The bartender hit the side of the box and the hazy white image flickered, "Blast it to hell! Work, damn you!" He hit it again a little harder, and the image cleared. "Finally!"

One of the old men clapped, "Good goin', Artie. Flick it to channel three, would you? The news is on in a few minutes."

The bartender, presumably Artie, shrugged. "It's _on_ three. You need a refill yet, Milligan?"

The old man checked his glass, which was still half-full. "No, not just yet."

"Give a holler when you do," Artie grabbed a rag and wiped off the bar in front of Bella. "Now, what can I get for you, ma'am?"

Bellatrix decided a little observation of the establishment was in order. She was out of her element, and knew it. It would be best to proceed with the utmost caution. "Gillywater."

The bartender cocked his head to the side, "Gilly-what?" he asked, confused. "Sorry, lady, I don't know that one. What's your second choice?"

Bella sighed inwardly. "Mead?"

Artie nodded, "Now _that_, I can do." He poured her a glass of mead and sat it on a coaster advertising Guinness. Bella sipped the drink slowly, her attention seemingly focused on the television over the bar. She was actually watching the room in the large mirror behind the shelves of bottles. She was almost finished with her drink when a commercial for a fast-food chain ended and the news came on. The old men sharing the bar with her looked up, almost simultaneously. Bella wondered what was so interesting. She glanced up at the box, still not knowing what the little box was, though it seemed to be similar to a wireless set, only with pictures, too.

Bellatrix had missed the first few moments of the broadcast and so caught only the tail-end of the headlines. "In local news, a concert took a turn for the worse earlier this evening. Harry Potter, age seventeen, from Little Whinging, was attacked while leaving the concert. He was taken to Charing Cross Hospital, where his condition is listed as stable. His attacker, Dudley Dursley, is currently being held by the police, on charges of assault."

_That's it!_ Bella tossed a galleon on the bar and ran out the door, apparating to London as her feet hit the snowy street outside. Artie looked up at the sound of the slamming door, "Lady! Hey!" He was going to protest her leaving without paying for her drink, however the mellow gleam of the gold coin on the bar captured his attention. He picked it up, realizing by its weight that it was likely solid gold.

"Whacha got there, Artie?" Milligan asked.

Artie slipped the coin into his pocket, "Just her tab. Wonder why she let outta here in such a rush?"

The old man shrugged, "That's young 'uns for ya. Always in a rush."

* * *

Harry was floating along in a painless fog. His only real complaints were that the lights were too bright, and he couldn't make his tongue work properly. Someone was talking to him. It took several minutes to make himself focus in on what was being said. He realized no one was talking _to _him, rather, there were several people talking _about _him.

"…three broken ribs and a concussion. We're going to keep him overnight for observation," was said in a voice Harry didn't recognize.

Sirius' voice growled something low that Harry couldn't catch, and Remus murmured something in soothing tones. The other voice cleared his throat. "I'm sure Harry appreciates that you've all shown up, however, he needs his rest and visiting hours are long since over. Please, go home for now. Barring the unexpected, you can take him home tomorrow, around noon."

Harry heard Jenn speak up, "Come on guys, there's no use arguing with the good doctor. Allen already took Amelia home, lets get _ourselves_ back home."

"Jenn, one of us should stay, though." That was Remus.

"I assure you, we are more than able to look after our patient, Mr. Lupin." The doctor sounded weary, as though this argument had happened much too often. Harry could see how, what with over-protective parents and childhood accidents being so prevalent.

To Harry's surprise, Sirius sided with Jenn. "Come on, Moony. Weren't you _just_ telling me that badgering the staff was only going to result in being escorted from the hospital?"

Remus let out a humorless chuckle. "I did at that, Padfoot, didn't I?" There were some retreating footsteps and Jenn's, Sirius', and Remus' voices faded.

The doctor sighed and there was the sound of a pen scratching on a clipboard. The fog in which Harry was suspended seemed to clear a bit. Harry coughed weakly, then winced as sharp pain spiked through his chest. The doctor sat the clipboard down, "Easy there, Mr. Potter. You've a couple of broken ribs."

Harry peeled his eyes open, squinting through the glare of the lights to see a young man with sandy blonde hair and round, silver-framed glasses. "Wa… water?"

The doctor nodded and took a cup off a side-table. He held the straw to Harry's mouth. With the water, the feeling that his tongue was made of velcro disappeared. "What happened?" he asked, still squinting through the light.

The doctor sat the cup back on the table and picked up the room control, "Here. This will let you control the lights and the television, though we've disabled the bed controls on it." Harry took it and dimmed the lights so they were no longer shooting daggers through his eyes. "What do you remember of the evening, Mr. Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes, "Amelia and I went to the Pearl Jam concert… It was pretty good, I mean, we had fun, and most of the music was okay. On our way out, I stopped and bought a CD. We went outside, and I was trying to recall where I parked my truck when Dudley showed up. We traded insults for a few minutes, when he shoved Amelia, and the last thing I remember is Dudley's fist connecting with my head."

The doctor nodded, "It seems you've no problems with your memory." Harry heard the sound of scribbling on the clipboard again. "My name is Doctor Browning, Mr. Potter. From what your girlfriend said, you were knocked out by that first punch. Your attacker, Dudley, I believe is what you said his name is, didn't stop with that, though. You've got three broken ribs from where he kicked you, a concussion from that first punch, and the bones in your right forearm are both broken, though not badly. From the bruising, I assume he stepped on you."

Harry snorted, _Of course that bloody whale would break bones just from standing on me. _"What happened to him?"

"Your girlfriend called the police, and he was taken into custody. I assume he's still at the police station. Amelia suffered a mild sprain in her right wrist." There was the click of the clipboard being set down again, Harry squinted and watched as the doctor injected something into his I.V. tubing. "To be quite frank, Mr. Potter, you're damn lucky you got away with only those injuries I've described. There are some bruises, too, but nothing major. If he'd hit you a little harder when he took that pot-shot to your temple, your friends would be out looking for a casket for you. Likewise, if he'd kicked you from a slightly different angle, you could have ended up with some nasty internal bleeding." The doctor sighed. "You really ought to be sleeping, Mr. Potter. If you find yourself in need of anything, use the control by your left hand to ring for a nurse."

Harry hummed a response. He was already drifting away, back into the fog of painkillers. Just before he completely lost consciousness, he mumbled, "'Melia… not m' girlfriend… yet."

* * *

Bellatrix found she despised muggles more with every passing moment. Having never been to Charing Cross Hospitalbefore, she couldn't apparate there. It was also highly unlikely that the hospital was connected to the floo. Hence, she was riding in a muggle train. Her seat was between a sweaty fat man that kept staring down her dress and a young woman that was carrying a squalling baby. She'd been lucky to get a ticket at all, though. The salesman at the counter in the train station in Little Hangleton was reluctant to accept her galleons, but relented with a minor compulsion hex on Bella's part.

The trip seemed to take an eternity, when it was really only a couple of hours. When the train pulled to a stop in London, Bella gathered her skirts up and all but ran off the train. Once on the platform outside, she cornered one of the station attendants and procured directions to Charing Cross Hospital. Exiting the station, she ducked down a nearby alley and pulled an old Cleansweep Three from her pocket. She resized it and cast a disillusionment charm on herself before taking to the air.

The grey light of predawn was just beginning to lighten the sky, the low clouds promising another snowy day, when Bellatrix located the hospital. She landed near an unobtrusive side entrance and replaced the broom in her pocket. A man wearing shapeless blue trousers and a short-sleeved shirt was smoking in the shadows. He was obviously doing so hurriedly; he wasn't wearing a coat. A speaker above the door blared to life, "Paging Dr. Kittleburg, paging Dr. Kittleburg. You've a phone call on line six. Repeat, phone call for Dr. Kittleburg on line six."

"Damnit." The man flicked his half-a-cigarette into the snow covering some bushes. "Figures." He swiped a small white rectangle over a black box that had a glowing red light. There was a faint beep and the door slid open. Bella wasn't about to waste her chance and followed the man inside before the door could close.

The man, presumably Dr. Kittleburg, hurried down the corridor to the left. Bella didn't want to be found, and so headed to the right. Before long, she arrived at a four-way junction of halls. A sign on the wall said she had just emerged from 'Imaging' and if she continued forward, she'd be entering 'Administrative.' She didn't think the muggles' use of the word was different than the wizarding one and so ignored the hall. If she turned right, the sign said she would be heading towards the 'ER, Gift Shop, and Tea Room.' To the left was 'Employee Lounge and Cafeteria.' Sighing, she rubbed her disillusioned temples. _How do I find what room Potter is in?_

She shrugged and headed to the right. _Someone has to be here, right? Hospitals never close… Not even for blasted muggles._ Not for the first time since being reunited with her Lord did she find herself wishing she had taken Muggle Studies while still in Hogwarts.

After a lengthy walk through the mazelike corridors, she eventually spotted a couple of people standing near some brightly-lit machines. One was drinking something hot from a paper cup; he was wearing an outfit nearly identical to the man who unknowingly let her in, only his was a hideous shade of dark maroon. His companion was wearing jeans and a blue sweater, munching on a chocolate bar. "I know, Keith," the man in the sweater was saying, "but I don't know if I agree with it. Susan's got to come to her senses soon, and when she does I want to be there."

The man in maroon shrugged, "Whatever, Don. I'm just saying you're wasting your time. I saw her out last night with that chap from Kent."

Blue Sweater sighed, "Hell. I didn't want to believe it when Kelly told me, but if you say so…"

"I'm your brother, Don. Would I lie to you?" Mr. Maroon glanced at his watch and scowled. "Damn. I'm running late. You ought to get yourself home, too."

Don nodded, "I know. You gonna be on time for a change?"

Keith shrugged, "Probably. We haven't been at all busy tonight. Had one woman come in in labor an hour ago and that kid from the concert and his girlfriend came in just after I got here, but no one else all night."

"See you later, then." Don in the blue sweater tossed his candy wrapper in a trash can and headed down the hall, disappearing through a set of steel doors.

Keith quaffed the last of his beverage and tossed it in the rubbish bin before hurrying down the hall, turning left just before the doors. Bella quickly cast a silencing spell on her feet and hurried after him. He led her to an area that had 'Emergency Room Admissions' printed in bold lettering over a cluttered work area. Two women, dressed almost identically to him, were sitting and playing a card game. "You're late, Keith."

Keith shrugged, "Don showed up. He's pining for Susan again."

The brunette girl laughed, "What else is new?"

The other girl scowled. "What's he see in her, I wonder?"

"Don't know and don't care. Whose turn is it to deal?"

Ignoring the card game, Bellatrix looked around the emergency room. Most of it was a carpeted waiting area with a large fish tank. The desk didn't offer up any information. She was tempted to try the computer, but she'd only ever heard of them before. She had no idea how to use one, and she doubted an _Imperio_ would work on one. If she were closer to her Lord, she would have _Imperioed _the man in maroon into showing her where Potter was, but she was far enough from Little Hangleton that her mark would take a minute to link to Voldemort's. If the Ministry logged an Unforgivable, aurors would show within thirty seconds, and she wasn't about to go back to Azkaban. Not for a muggle, not for Potter, and _definitely_ not for her Lord. She'd worked too long and hard to rejoin him to be caught so easily.

She slumped into one of the uncomfortable chairs facing the aquarium to think for a moment. _If this place is anything like Saint Mungo's, I don't think they'd allow visitors at dawn. Likewise, if I asked what room Potter was in, they'd probably want to know my relationship to him. I don't think they'd react all that well if I came out and said, "I was sent to locate Potter because my Lord wishes him used in an arcane ritual to return him to his proper body." Come on, Bella, think! How to find out Potter's room… You're a Slytherin, damnit, scheming should come naturally._ Bella smiled. _That's it!_ She saw an older gentleman in a business suit and heavy coat striding up to the doors to the Emergency Room. He pressed a button, and a chime sounded from the desk. The blonde girl in maroon hurried to the desk. She flicked a switch, "Regular as clockwork, Dr. Brown."

"Just buzz me in, Leila," A disembodied voice matched the lips of the man outside.

There was a beep similar to the one preceding the opening of the door earlier. Bella rushed to the door and exited while the man in the suit came in. She barely managed to avoid bumping into him. The man paused for a moment, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head, there was nothing there. He shook his head dismissively and walked over to the desk.

Bella hurried around the side of the building and _finited_ the disillusionment charm. She then transfigured her clothes to match what the woman on the train had been wearing; jeans, a thick white sweater, and white-and-blue shoes that had a strange little swoop on their sides. She also cast a glamour over herself to make her appear younger. She used the mirrored glass of a window she knew was safely not one of the ones that looked out from the ER and bit her lip. She _really_ didn't want to do the next part, but she knew she had no choice. It was either a little pain now, or a lot when she returned to her Lord, empty-handed.

_The things I do for Him_, she thought while muttering an obscure spell and running the tip of her wand along her cheek. A moment later she stood back and observed her handiwork. Shaking her head, she adjusted the transfiguration on her clothes to make the sweater a bit tattered. She waited approximately twenty minutes for the bruises and blood from the cut she'd inflicted on her face to add a bit of convincing detail to her choice of costume. When she felt she looked realistically beaten enough, she stepped into her chosen alter ego and headed back to the ER door.

Over the next hour-and-a-half, she learned quite a lot about muggles. Most of the knowledge, though, was something she felt she could have done without. Stitches, for example. Paperwork, for another. On the upside, though, she learned that Potter was in a room on the second floor. In fact, they offered her use of the room across from his. They had swallowed her tale of an abusive boyfriend hook, line, and sinker. She accepted gratefully, and the doctor – the same one who had unwittingly let her in earlier – had promised to get in touch with a women's shelter for her. When the hospital staff finally left her alone, she quickly banished the stitches and ended the spells on her appearance. She cast another disillusionment spell on herself and entered Potter's room.

_Look at the widdle baby, all tuckered out from his ordeal._ Bella sneered at the teen sleeping on the hospital bed. She knew she wouldn't be able to remove him from the hospital – it was unlikely that the boy would quietly allow himself to be kidnapped and her mark would only transport herself. She didn't mind that, though. She was after the infernal paperwork attached to a clipboard suspended from a hook in the wall near the head of Potter's bed. She quietly took down the board and flipped through the pages of medical jargon. On the last page she found what she was looking for. She memorized the address and activated her mark. Her Lord would be pleased.

* * *

It was nearing three o'clock in the afternoon. Though Harry had been released from the hospital at precisely noon, he still wasn't home. He was currently sitting with a police officer describing the events of the night before. His chest was aching abominably, as was his arm. His head, though, wasn't aching quite as much as either of the other two. "So, Mr. Potter, I think that will do it. Will you be pressing charges?"

Harry shrugged, and immediately wished he hadn't. "I don't know. I wanted to talk it over with my guardians… my lawyer, too."

If the officer was surprised that Harry, at seventeen, already had his own lawyer, he didn't show it. "Let us know within the next two days, Mr. Potter. I'll let you know, though, that even if you don't decide to press charges, I'm rather sure your foster-parents _will_. Mrs. Kellerman looked fit to spit nails when I spoke with her last night."

Harry grinned. "I can just imagine… Why the next two days, sir?"

The officer sighed, "We can only hold him for a total of seventy-two hours without charges. After that, we can hold him until trial, provided, of course, that he doesn't make bail."

"I'm sure Aunt Marge would be happy to bail him out," Harry scoffed.

"Don't be too sure of that, Mr. Potter. She was called this morning, and… Well, shall I say she was less than pleased with the whole situation?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Huh… May wonders never cease? I wonder if maybe Vernon and Petunia going to prison somehow managed to change her view of me?"

"It's possible," the officer nodded, "stranger things _have_ happened."

Harry snickered as much as his chest would allow, "Tell me about it."

"In any case, Mr. Potter, we have your statement, and you can go whenever you're ready."

"Thanks, sir. I'll be in touch."

The officer helped Harry to his feet and opened the door for him. "Here's my card. Trying to go through the station switchboard is rather like navigating a maze in the dark during a blizzard – no telling where you'd end up."

"Thanks again, sir. I'll call you either later today or sometime tomorrow to let you know my decision."

Harry slowly walked out to where Jenn and Sirius were waiting. Allen and Remus were at the shop for the day; even though it normally closed early on Saturdays, there had been a late-night accident with one of their regular customers. Allen wanted to make sure the man's car was done in record time.

"So… How'd it go?" Jenn asked.

"Come on, let's talk in the car. Did anyone get Viridian last night?" Harry replied.

Sirius nodded, "Yeah. When Amelia called, we piled into the car and headed off to see you, dropping Allen off at the car park on our way by. He followed us in it, and then ran Amelia home when she finished having her wrist checked out."

Once in Jenn's car, Harry handed her the card that the officer had handed him. "He said to call either today or tomorrow if we decide to press charges." Jenn immediately reached for her mobile and started dialing the number. "Hold up, Jenn."

"What?" Harry could tell she really wanted to head back into the station and track down where they'd stashed Dudley and beat the crap out of him.

"Don't you think we ought to talk with Andie first? I mean…"

Jenn sat her phone back in her purse and retrieved her car keys. "That's not a half-bad idea, Harry. Right now, all we'd be able to do is get that little prig for assault. I'm sure Andie would be able to do something to make it more severe… attempted murder, maybe…"

"I don't know if we ought to go _that_ far, Jenn." Harry replied.

Sirius chuckled. Jenn's head whipped around to level a glare at the wizard. "Just _what_ is so bloody funny?"

Sirius shook his head, still grinning. "I suppose I can see now why the Hat put Harry in Hufflepuff." Harry groaned and was sorely tempted to hit or hex his godfather.

"At the very least, I'm sure that Andie would be able to get him tried as an adult… Hell, there's more than enough evidence floating around out there to support a history of violent behavior; she found that much out back when we were working to get you emancipated." Jenn started the car and headed out of the parking area.

Sirius turned in the passenger seat to look at Harry. "What do you say about heading to Saint Mungo's to get properly patched up?"

Harry shrugged, then winced as his wrapped ribs moved in a manner in which they probably shouldn't have. "That might be a good idea."

"'Properly patched up?'" Jenn asked, turning onto the street behind a large dump truck.

Sirius nodded, "The healers at the wizarding hospital can mend broken bones in a matter of moments, though he might have to suffer the bruises for a couple of days."

"Bruises I can handle," Harry muttered, "it's these ribs I'm not so sure about."

"What of when this goes to trial?" Jenn asked. "Wouldn't it be more than a little suspicious if Harry shows up to testify and isn't at all injured?"

"There is that… but, there are reasons magic exists, you know," Sirius' tendency to talk with his hands was showing itself as he gestured and managed to hit the back of his hand against the window. "Ow. Anyway," he shook his hand and continued, though he made sure not to hit the window again, "a simple illusion can mimic whatever state muggles would expect Harry to be in. Either that, or we can magically reproduce the appropriate level of injury… though I wouldn't want to do that one. It'd be painful at best. I suppose it all comes down to how good an actor Harry is."

"Don't most trials take a while, anyway?" Harry pointed out. "The thing with the Dursleys wasn't normal in how fast it went… but Andie _is_ good at her job," he snickered. "She'd have to be, what with how much we pay her." They'd read in the paper just the previous week about how Vernon was found guilty of embezzlement from Grunnings, and how Petunia had been found guilty of bribery – they were both in prison, beginning their sentences, less time already served, of course.

"Point taken," Jennifer replied. "So… Just where _is_ Saint Mungo's?"

Sirius took a look out the windows to get his bearings. "Make a left up at the next intersection."

Following Sirius' instructions, they shortly arrived at the wizarding hospital. Jenn was more than a little amused to find that it was hidden in an old department store. "I guess that answers _that_ question," she murmured to herself after following Sirius and Harry into the reception area.

"What question?" Harry asked.

"Why this place has been closed for as long as I've been shopping in London. I used to drive past this place twice a day, back when I was working downtown, before I went freelance, and had been sort of looking forward to it's grand re-opening."

Sirius chuckled as he led them up to the welcome witch, whose eyes widened perceptibly upon seeing the ex-con with the elusively famous Harry Potter in tow. "Good afternoon, sir," the thirty-something brunette smiled toothily at Sirius. "How may I assist you?"

Sirius grinned charmingly at her and read her name tag, "Hi, Arria. My godson seems to have had a minor run-in with a rampaging erumpent juvenile – also known as his cousin, Dudley. He's been treated at a muggle hospital, but would like to have the broken bones fixed properly."

Arria giggled a little at Sirius' joke, "Go on down the hall to Artifact Accidents, Mr. Black. Though you might consider a run-in with a muggle to be a creature-induced injury – and from the article in this week's _Witch Weekly_, I'd agree with you – non-magical injuries are best addressed by the quidditch-injury specialists." She rifled through some paperwork on her desk and handed over a sheaf of parchment. "You'll need to fill this out, too. Just give it to the healer when you, or rather, your godson, sees him."

Sirius took the paperwork and grinned again, "Thanks, Arria. Oh, by-the-by, just _what_ is in this week's _Witch Weekly_?"

She handed him the magazine, "Go ahead and keep that one, Mr. Black. I've got another waiting at home. Subscription, you know."

"Thanks again, Arria." Sirius took the magazine and tapped it on the counter before turning to Jenn and Harry. He handed Jenn the pile of paperwork and the three of them eventually found the Artifact Accidents ward. Sirius was snickering over the magazine while Jenn puzzled out the paperwork. When his godfather was done with the article, he handed it to Harry. Harry was hard-pressed to keep from laughing at it; his chest still hurt too much to do more than breathe.

_**The Boy-Who-Lived: Where is he now?**_

_By Rita Skeeter – Special Correspondent_

_Everyone remembers that fateful Halloween eve when Harry Potter banished You-Know-Who forever at the tender age of one, but where is he now?_

_After receiving word of several appearances of the Boy-Who-Lived in Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, this reporter has the answers._

_Harry Potter, now age seventeen, currently lives with a muggle couple in Little Winging, Surrey. In a stunning move, he did not attend Hogwarts as the entirety of the wizarding world had presumed, instead he attends a muggle school by the name of Stonewall. Rumor also has it that he is working for a muggle auto-service (a shop where muggle vehicles are repaired.) He has also been reported as being seen in the company of both Sirius Black (see Witch Weekly, Vol. MMMVXII, 'The Extraordinary Case of Sirius Black' for more information,) and Remus Lupin – the very same Remus Lupin who is logged with the Ministry as a werewolf and taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the fall of 1991 until the end of the spring term of 1992._

_One wonders why the Boy-Who-Lived is aligning himself with a known Dark creature and a man who spent the last sixteen years in Azkaban, though when one takes a closer look at the muggle family who raised him, these questions become clear. Harry Potter had been left in the care of his mother's sister, Petunia Dursley, and her family. Sources state that the Dursleys are currently serving prison terms for charges including bribery of muggle officials…_

The article went on to describe, in exaggerated detail, some of the events of the last couple of months, paying a ridiculous amount of attention to Harry's apparent lack of judgment in selecting his friends, as well as speculating on whether or not he was dating 'plain, but intelligent, muggleborn Hermione Granger.' It also detailed more about his relatives than Harry would have thought that a wizarding reporter would have been able to discover… In all honesty, he was a little worried about the reporter's ability to find out about him – and, presumably, anyone else. Though the dry facts of the article were accurate, it _was_ steeped in rumor, hearsay, and gossip. The entire thing made Harry out to be some sort of rogue who had no respect for wizarding culture, who also had a worrisome penchant for befriending supposedly 'Dark' wizards – Sirius and Remus being her case in point.

Harry rolled his eyes at the whole thing and tucked the magazine into his pocket. "I think I'll be writing to Miss Skeeter. She really needs to learn to get her facts straight; either that, or not gossip quite so much."

"I'll say," Sirius replied, scowling momentarily. "I'm _not_ forty!"

"So she rounded up, so what? What's another two or three years? I'm more worried about all that 'Dark' nonsense and the fact that she seems to be surprisingly well-informed," Harry replied, sliding onto a hard, wooden chair between a man with tentacles for hair and Jenn, who was still reading over the parchment she'd been handed.

"Pen?" she asked, holding her hand out. "I think I've figured out most of what they're asking for on this damn thing… What was the magazine?"

"Tell you later," Sirius handed her a never-out quill.

It took roughly twenty minutes to fill out the forms with Harry's help, and another hour or so for a healer to see them. Finally, though, the last of the bone-deep aches faded and Harry was given a salve for the bruises even as he cheerfully incinerated the plaster cast that had been on his arm. "If I ever have to wear another of those damn things, it'll be too soon."

* * *

"You have done well, Bella," Voldemort hissed. "And have you contacted the Crouch elf?"

Bellatrix nodded, "Yes, milord. She was most happy to see me. Barty shall be able to join us in only a couple of days. He said he needed time to ensure no one would know of his presence outside of Azkaban. I presume he meant Mr. Crouch, the elder?"

A smile was a frightening thing to see on the Dark Lord's face, even under the best of circumstances, which this, technically, _was_. It still made goosebumps creep out on Bellatrix's arms.

* * *

"So… Basically, what we've got here is a whole lot of _nothing_." Chad sighed disgustedly and lit another cigarette.

"No, not quite true," Moody disagreed. "We know quite a bit. It's just trying to figure out what's happening next that seems to be the issue here."

"No shit, Sherlock. How'd you figure that one out?"

"There's no reason to get shirty with me, sonny." Moody pointed his wand at the muggle profiler.

Chad shook his head. "I'll pretend you didn't just call me the same thing my grandfather used to when I was six. Let's go over the salient points again, eh?"

"What 'salient points'? We _have_ salient points? I thought you just said we had a 'whole lot of _nothing_."

"Can the sarcasm, Moody. Point one: We know Riddle is currently having an 'Out of Body Experience.'"

Moody snorted, "That's one way of putting it."

"Point two is conjecture, but seems to make sense: In order for Harry to fulfill that prophesy and off the bastard, he'll need to have a body. Right?"

"Precisely."

"We've also covered that there are several ways for him to go about this. He could try to possess someone –"

"Correction. He tried that already… Dumbledore notes, page sixteen, third paragraph."

Chad nodded, "Yeah, I was about to say that, but you interrupted me. He _could_ possess someone – again – but he wouldn't have access to his own magic if he did so. It strikes me that he won't be trying that again anytime soon, he's too sure of his own magical ability to be content with being a parasite."

"Agreed. There _was_ the Philosopher's Stone, but that was destroyed, and if old Tommy-boy had the Elixir of Life, he wouldn't be having his current corporeality issues."

"Right," Chad flicked accumulated ash of the tip of his cigarette into an over-full ashtray that was sitting on Moody's kitchen table. The kitchen, itself, was surprisingly bright and cheerful when compared with its retired-auror owner; white and cream walls, with pale yellow cupboards and a black-and-white checkerboard tile counter. "You mentioned something about unicorns?"

Moody nodded, "Aye, seems that when Riddle was possessing the unfortunate Quirrell, he was also drinking unicorn blood."

"Just what does that do, again? Forgive the faulty memory, but we've been through so much magic-crap lately that it's all trying to blend together."

"Unicorn blood keeps the drinker from death, no matter how severe the wound."

"Even as a non-corporeal parasitical spirit?"

Moody nodded again. "I would presume so."

"Hmm…" Chad slumped back in his chair and finished his cigarette. "Didn't it say in that journal of Harry's that Riddle has a pet snake?"

"Yes… I see…" Moody stood up and began to pace, thinking out loud. "If it was a runespoor, or even a cross, or possibly an ashwinder… No, not an ashwinder… Maybe an Albanian reticulated viperboa? Probable… Mixed with residual unicorn blood… Perhaps a touch of Draught of Living Death? Likely… I need to floo Snape. Potions never was my forte."

"Huh? What was all that?"

Moody grinned, the expression somewhat out-of-place on his craggy face. "Over the last few days, sonny, you've been asking all those questions about how certain magics interact. This is along those lines. Most magics, as I've told you numerous times, don't mix well. There are exceptions, but it usually takes a helluva lot of arithmancy to suss the right combinations out. The main exception to this general rule is in potions-brewing. No matter what it is, if it's magical and added to a potion, it'll have an affect on the outcome. Most times it's a rather impressive explosion, though you do get the odd cloud of noxious fumes or an acid that will eat through anything. It's been a while since NEWT potions, but we just happen to know a Potions Master."

Chad smiled vaguely, "Still don't quite get it, but I'll trust you on this one."

* * *

Harry gratefully fell onto his bed and sighed. It had been a very _long_ day. _If I ever see another hospital again, I don't know what I'll do… Nasty places… Smell like bleach and sickness no matter what they spray in the air to try to cover it._ Harry groaned as he heard his mobile start to ring. He glanced at the caller-id and saw that it was Amelia.

"'Lo?"

"Harry?"

"The one and only."

"How are you?" There was a smacking noise, and Harry could practically see Amelia smacking herself. "Sorry. Dumb question. I know you probably feel like shite after what your cousin did. You're sure that bloody monster is related to you?"

Harry snorted, "I've always thought that my aunt and uncle found him under a rock."

"It wouldn't surprise me any. It's good to hear that a night in hospital hasn't affected your sense of humor."

"Sorry about your wrist."

"Don't worry about it," Amelia laughed a little, though its tone was distinctly lacking in amusement. "It's that ruddy Dudley's fault. He shoved me. I was just silly enough to try blocking my fall with my wrist. Hurt rather bad at the time, but it only aches a bit now. When I picked myself up, I called the police. If you're not going to press charges against him, I am. He's a _menace_."

Harry snickered, "You don't know the half of it, Amelia. And don't worry about me not pressing charges. I plan to, I just need to talk with my solicitor first. I have a feeling Andie's going to try to get him for attempted murder when she hears the story. This isn't the first time he's lashed out at me. Ever since we were little, he's been bullying his way through my life. The difference this time is that he doesn't have his mommy and daddy there to bribe the people he beat up into staying quiet."

"Really? What happened to them?" Amelia sounded ravenously curious.

"Oh, his dad – my uncle Vernon – is currently serving fifteen to twenty years for embezzlement at his old job, and Aunt Petunia is doing a two to four year stretch for bribery."

"Wow. Nice family," the comment was heavily laced with sarcasm. "So… Who had Dudley been staying with?"

"His aunt Marge – Vernon's sister. From what the officer at the police station told me, she wasn't at all happy about Dudley's arrest."

"I can just imagine…"

There was a couple of minutes of silence. Harry suddenly realized that his lack of a cast – not to mention the healed ribs – was going to be a little hard to explain to Amelia.

Amelia coughed a little. "Well… I did call to find out how you were…?"

Harry shrugged, then thought, _I have really got to stop doing that… This is a phone, not the floo._ "I'm alright. Had a concussion, but the doctor said I should be fine."

"I thought I had heard the nurses in the ER say something about broken bones?"

"Well…" Harry thought quickly. "They thought so, but the X-Ray was clear. Just bruised, not broken. They said I'll probably be really sore for a couple of days."

"Oh." There was another period of uncomfortable silence. "Other than the obvious, I did have fun last night. Thanks for going with me."

Harry chuckled, happy for the change of topic, "Not a problem. Anytime."

"So… You want to go for dinner or something next Friday? My treat."

"Sounds like fun," Harry replied. "But it doesn't seem fair, you paying and all. The concert – I know the tickets were a present from your family – but it was still all you… Tell you what, you pick the place, any place, and I'll pay."

Harry could practically hear the catlike smirk, "I'll hold you to that, Harry."

"So, later then?"

"Yeah. Hope you're back to normal soon."

"You, too."

"Bye." Harry hung up the phone and stared at it a little incredulously. _Is she barking mad? Last night was fun… right up until Dudley showed. The rest of the evening was an unmitigated disaster, and she still wants to go out with me again?_

His phone suddenly rang again and Harry nearly dropped it in surprise. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Arthur."

"Oh, hey. I didn't know you had a phone."

"I don't… I stopped to use the public one in Ottery St. Catchpole. I can't talk long, I only had a couple of the muggle coins this thing uses…"

"What did you need?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Not much… At least, nothing that I know of. Why?"

"Can you meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at around six? I'll be bringing Fred and George, if so."

Harry brightened, "Sure. Just let me tell Jenn, and I can be there earlier, if you want. Did you want me to bring along Sirius?"

"Not a bad idea," Arthur replied.

A voice interrupted them and requested more coins to continue the call, over which Harry hoped Arthur could hear him say, "I'll see you there!" before the call was disconnected.

Harry quickly changed into some clean clothes, mentally making a note to do as Jenn had suggested – _Was that only last night?_ – and buy some more at the earliest opportunity. _I need a new fan brush anyway, and I'm out of burnt sienna, and almost out of yellow ochre… My layout pencil is getting rather nubby, too… And I need three more canvass-boards for class… Toothpaste… Wonder if Professor Snape will want me to stock any of the supplies for our lessons? I know we're running low on some things, but he never mentioned anything. Hmm…_ Still musing on the miscellaneous things he was in need of, he pocketed his mobile and set Remus' pendant and bracelet on his desk to return to him when he got back from meeting with Arthur. He strapped on his wand-holster, idly ruing the fact that he'd left it behind the night before. _Lesson learned,_ he thought. _I don't think I'm going to go _anywhere_ without it, ever again. If I'd had it last night, I wouldn't have spent the night in hospital, and Dudley would have a whole different set of problems_. He grinned a little maliciously at the thought of hexing his cousin. _Hmm… Wonder how that guy at Saint Mungo's ended up with tentacles for hair? Naw… Wouldn't work on Dudders…_

He pulled on his coat – it was on the long side, reaching to just above his knees, and made of shiny black leather with big buttons and had some sort of fuzzy material that wasn't quite fur for the collar – and headed back down the stairs.

"Going somewhere?" Jenn asked when Harry poked his head into the kitchen.

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Arthur just called, wants me to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Alright. You going to be back in time for dinner?"

"Probably not. I'll eat there, okay?"

"No problem," Jenn replied. "Oh, while you're out, would you stop by the grocer? We're out of milk."

"Sure. See you when I get back," Harry smiled at Jenn, then turned his attention to Sirius. "You coming?"

Sirius blinked, "What?"

Harry chuckled, "It's a business meeting. Prospective employees. Did you want to come, too?"

Sirius looked torn, "But Jenn's making chicken a la king…"

"You can always eat when you get back."

Sighing, Sirius stood and pulled his own coat back on – his was likewise leather, but more of a motorcycle enthusiast's style than the one Harry was wearing. "Is your life _always_ this hectic?"

Harry shrugged, "Must be, because this seems normal to me, excepting the stay in hospital, of course."

"Merlin…" Sirius muttered. "No wonder Jenn and Remus are always joking about how you never sit still."

"I do too sit still."

"When?" Sirius asked, opening the back door.

"I do sleep, you know," Harry replied, indignantly. "It's not that I can't be still, because I can. It's more that I usually don't want to. There's a lot more interesting things to be doing than sitting."

"Right," Sirius was skeptical. As the two of them crossed the yard to the garage, where Viridian was parked, Sirius changed the subject. "So, who are the potential employees we're meeting with? Friends of Arthur?"

"No, his sons, Fred and George." Harry reached in his pocket for his keys and suddenly realized that they weren't in his pocket. "Damn…"

"What is it now?"

"Don't have my keys. Allen must still have them."

"Don't worry about it. We can apparate there and back." Sirius placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and suddenly the two of them were standing outside the pub.

"When will I be learning how to do that on my own?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged, "No idea, Pup. You'll have to ask Remus." He opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron and led them to a secluded corner table. "Evening, Tom," he nodded to the bartender.

"Evening, Sirius. The usual?"

"Sounds good to me, and a butterbeer. Thanks."

"Just be a mo'," Tom sat down the glass he had been polishing and turned to take care of one of the customers sitting at the bar before retrieving Sirius' and Harry's drinks. The pub was not as busy as Harry would have expected, but then again, it was Sunday. While waiting for Arthur and his sons to arrive, Harry and Sirius chatted about trivialities.

"Hello, Harry. Sirius," Arthur's voice interrupted Sirius' description of the time that James had broken his collarbone and left arm during a quidditch match in their sixth year.

"Good evening, Arthur," Sirius replied, looking up at the man. He was bracketed by a pair of identical twin boys.

"Hey," Harry grinned and sat his mug of butterbeer down. "These are Fred and George, I presume?"

"Yes," Arthur replied. "I suppose I'm rather a bad parent for admitting this, but you'll have to ask them which is which – I never was able to keep them straight." The twins exchanged a grin and snickered.

"Pleased to meet you both. Go on and have a seat," Harry indicated the empty chairs around the table.

After introductions were made all around and dinner and drinks ordered, Harry outlined the purpose of Black Kettle Enterprises to the nineteen year-old redheads; that is, he described the public purpose of melding muggle technology and magic. Harry didn't know either of them well enough to tell them about the company's more private goal of merging the wizarding and muggle worlds. Before Harry had finished the description of his goals, he could tell that Arthur was spot-on in recommending his sons as employees. Their eyes lit up as Harry continued and identical mischievous grins appeared on identical faces. Harry reflected that that particular expression was rather frightening… He could see how the twins had earned their notoriety as pranksters, he could practically see the ideas bubbling up in their brains.

By the end of the evening, the employee count for BKE had grown to five. Nigel was still thinking about whether or not he wanted in, and had promised Harry that he'd have his answer in another week or two, at the most.

* * *

When Harry returned home, he walked into the middle of a rip-roaring argument between Chad and Allen. "You bloody bastard! You're doing this on purpose!"

Chad rolled his eyes and sarcastically replied, "Yeah, I am! I'm doing this deliberately just to piss you off!"

"It wouldn't surprise me any, you always did like irritating me!" Allen shouted from his place near the kitchen door. Chad was standing near the staircase. Harry was grateful that they were only in the entry hall and not anywhere near projectiles; if they had been, he was sure that someone would have been hurt by now. Even though it had been a couple of weeks since Chad's arrival, this was the first major argument he'd seen between the two men – the altercation at the hotel didn't count, as almost everyone there was fighting with _someone_ that day.

"Guys?" Harry tried to get their attention.

"Oh, come off it, you moron! I'm not doing this just to irritate you! Contrary to your opinion, my life doesn't revolve around making you miserable!" Harry could see flecks of spittle flying from Chad's mouth.

"Could have fooled me!" Harry noticed that magenta really wasn't Allen's color, especially since it was his skin that was that particular shade.

"Guys?"

"Not that that's oh-so-hard to do!" Chad's posture reminded Harry of the video he'd seen in a science class several years earlier about the behavior of cats. He was certain that if Chad had fur, he'd be puffed up like a startled kitten.

"Oh, so now I'm stupid, am I?" Allen's voice was growing louder – something that Harry hadn't known was possible.

"GUYS!"

"No, I didn't say that! There you go again, taking what I say completely out of context! I didn't call you stupid! I called you gullible… Maybe a bit obtuse. Not _stupid_."

Before Allen could shout a reply, Harry pulled out his wand and fired a noise like a gunshot from it. It had two effects: It got them both to shut up, and Harry found out that Chad really had _superb_ reflexes as he stared down the barrel of the profiler's pistol. "Um… Guys?"

Chad took a deep breath and put the gun back in it's holster under his jacket. "Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Um… Can I ask what this was all about?"

Allen shook his head and stalked up the stairs. Chad replied, "Same ol', same ol'. Hell, after nearly thirty years, you'd think he'd learn to forgive and forget."

There was the distant noise of a slamming door. "Pardon?" Harry asked.

"Oh… That's how long we've known each other. How long we've been at each other's throats."

Harry shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the coat tree by the door. "And just what, exactly, started all this? I mean, there has to be a _reason_. People don't just meet and decide they hate one another."

Chad sighed, "I suppose it was _technically_ my fault… In 1967, when we were all still in Boston, he and Jenny started dating. I was going to college at the time and lived off-campus. But my car – this horrid old beater from the '40's – broke down. Jenny begged and pleaded with Allen to let me use his car to get to class – it was finals week. Anyway, on the last day of finals week, I was parked at a stop sign when this big delivery van cut around the corner too close. They were going way too fast, too, and the corner wasn't exactly one that was easily seen around – there was a bunch of tall bushes in the way. It hit the car and completely totaled it. Probably wouldn't have been quite so bad if the van hadn't pushed the car and knocked a fire hydrant over. What the van didn't crush, the hydrant did, and the high-pressure water did the rest."

Harry grimaced. "What kind of car was it?"

"That, Harry, is why Allen's been holding this grudge for so long. It was a 1966 Corvette ragtop. He'd bought it new, or so he says."

Harry winced, "Ouch. But what about you?"

Chad shrugged, "He won't believe me that it was an accident. Never has, probably never will."

Shaking his head at the situation, Harry headed upstairs to make sure he'd finished his homework for the next day.

* * *

**A/N2:** Okay… And another chappie bites the dust.

I'm a little insecure about Amelia even being in the story… What do y'all think of her? Personally, I'm not that fond of her… Oh, well. I'm not Harry, and _he's_ the one who has to be happy. Not me. Oh, and someone asked if I'd described what she looked like, can't remember who, though, and also can't be buggered to look, but I did, back when she and Harry first met in the auto shop. I _think_ it was in the last chapter…

I feel like I should apologize for the lack of seeing what happened with Vernon and Petunia Dursley, but I didn't think their trials were all that necessary to the story. The charges against them were such that Harry didn't need to be there, and I'm really bad at writing them and not coming across as having stolen the phrasing from someone else – I mean, there's only so many combinations of 'Vernon turned a weird color' and 'Petunia screeched' that _can_ be written before it becomes stock, and I really don't care for stock writing – that's why I don't read Harlequin or the like.

And I hope I fulfilled everyone's questions about why Chad and Allen hate each other. It took me a _long_ time to find out it was all because of a ruddy car. Eventually, when I figure out where to put it, you'll hear Allen's side of the story, but I figured Chad's would do for now.

'.erom etirw esaelp, siht ekil I' yas tsuj taht seno eht neveE .sweiver ekil yllaer I


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** Anything that you recognize isn't mine, and as no money is being made from this story, I can't see how it matters, anyway.

**A/N:** Okay, this chapter is a bit longer than the ones previous, simply because I needed to cover quite a bit of time. However, no one can complain about how long it took to post after the long delay for the _last_ chapter! I think I did rather well, considering.

This chapter brings us up to late March/early April of 1998. We see some interaction with Mike and his family, more on BKE, some of Amelia and Harry, some of Harry's advanced tutelage, and I also reveal Harry's animagus form. I probably should have cut this to two chappies, but I wanted to get this all out of the way, so I could get closer to the scenes that inspired this fic. :-)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Busy, Busy, Busy**

Monday, February 9, 1998 dawned clear and bitingly cold. Harry rushed through his morning routine, intent on dropping by the art supply store before school. He noticed that though he was still rather bruised, the salve the healer at Saint Mungo's gave him deadened any pain and loosened all the stiffness that had built up overnight. As he combed his hair out of his eyes, he debated on going to a barber that afternoon. _Hmm… Maybe if I let it grow some, my hair won't be so… untamable._ He pulled on his uniform, wondering what had happened to the clothes he'd worn to the concert the night before. He had a vague memory of Jenn handing him a pile of clothes with a comment about how doctors needed to learn how to undress someone without destroying the clothing in the process. He wasn't sure, though. Morphine was a pretty powerful drug, after all. Despite that, however, Harry wasn't even tempted to try it recreationally. He hated not having full control of himself and awareness of his surroundings.

Harry hurried to the kitchen and cobbled together a sandwich from a fried egg, some bacon, and a buttered scone. "Morning, Jenn."

"Good morning," Jenn replied, moving some more bacon from the frying pan to a plate. "Sleep well?"

Harry nodded, mouth full. He swallowed and grabbed his mug off the counter, draining the tea it held in one go. "Yeah. No odd dreams or visions last night. I think it's a remnant of those painkillers the doctors had me on."

Jenn's eyes narrowed, no doubt she was feeling lingering anger at Dudley. "Feeling better?"

"A thousand percent, Jenn. I was a little sore when I got up, but that stuff the healer gave me seems to work really well." Harry hurriedly finished his breakfast.

"In a rush?"

Harry nodded again, "Mmhmm. I forgot to pick up some things I'll need for my 2D art class this afternoon. Thought I'd grab them on the way to school."

"Before you go, I spoke with Andie this morning. She's going to be contacting the police for us to inform them we are _definitely _pressing charges against your cousin."

Harry nodded, "I figured as much. Keep me posted on what's going on in that quarter, won't you?"

"Of course. Drive safe, Harry. It rained late last night, and then froze when the temperature dropped this morning. It's sure to be awfully slick out."

"Will do," Harry gave Jenn a quick hug and headed for the door.

Jennifer was right – it _was_ really slick out. Harry almost slid right off the front steps. Luckily, the lock on his truck had been in the lee of the wind, and so was ice-free. While waiting for the truck to warm enough for the ice on the windshield to be scraped off, Harry was struck with inspiration. He pulled his wand out of its holster and incanted a warming charm on the windows. They cleared in record time. Harry grinned. _Nifty._ _I'll have to look into finding a spell to make that permanent…_ He backed out of the drive, very carefully, and slowly made his way to a nearby shopping center. He arrived just as the art store was opening, and hurried inside, grateful that the crew that tended to this particular parking lot had already been out and cleared the majority of the ice away. It only took Harry a few minutes to locate and purchase the art supplies he needed. He also purchased a rather large canvas; it was easily six feet to each side, and was slightly longer than it was wide. He wasn't really sure why, exactly, he'd purchased it, but it had been the only one of that size the store had. If nothing else, he could use it for his final project.

Having finished ahead of schedule at the art store, Harry figured that he had plenty of time to get a few other items on his internal shopping list and still have ample time to get to school. With the sun rising, he noticed that the temperature was rising right alongside it. By the time it was he pulled into the school parking lot, most of the ice on the roads was starting to melt. _The ice may be melting, but it's still ruddy cold out._ Harry thought as he hurried to his first class of the day.

His classes progressed normally, and Mr. Thatcher – his art instructor – gave Harry permission to store the massive canvas in his supply closet. After school, Harry stopped by the mall and wandered around for a couple of hours. He didn't buy much, and what he did get was mostly some CD's from a music store or some more clothes. He had an early supper in the food court and while he was finishing up his fish and chips, he bumped – literally – into Amelia.

"Hey!" Amelia sounded indignant until she turned to see who had caused her to slosh her drink onto her shoes. "Oh, hi, Harry!" Her scowl brightened to a grin. "Didn't expect to see you here!"

Harry smiled at her, "Me, neither. I mean, seeing _you_ here, not seeing _me_ here, because I know I'm here and how could I see myself here anyway? Unless there was a mirror or something like that – " Realizing he was babbling incoherently, Harry clamped a hand over his mouth in horror. He could tell he was bright red.

Amelia laughed. "Don't worry. I get it. Oh!" She pulled her backpack off and rummaged around in it. "I saved your CD Saturday. Here," she handed the disk to him.

Harry took it with his free hand and mumbled a muffled, "Fnnk oo."

"Huh? You might be a bit more clear if you moved your hand, Harry," Amelia was smiling brightly.

Harry shook his head, "O. Eessr a nt ee a ork ik iss."

Amelia couldn't help it, she broke down into childish giggles. Harry could feel his face brightening from normal red to that bordering-on-fire-engine-red that practically glowed in the dark. "What was that? This time in the Queen's English, if you please."

Harry removed his hand from his mouth. "Sorry. I said thanks about the CD."

"And the rest?" Amelia's eyes were dancing with mirth.

"Oh… I just said that it was easier not to be a dork with my hand up."

Amelia snorted in a very unladylike manner, "That so?"

Harry merely nodded.

"Whatever, Harry," she glanced at her watch. "Yikes! Is it really almost six? I've _got_ to get going! I was supposed to be home a half an hour ago!"

"You should probably go, then," Harry replied. "Don't want you getting into trouble on account of me."

Amelia shrugged, "I don't think this could in any way be your fault. I just stayed too long in that new store that opened up on the second level."

"See you Friday."

"Yeah, see you later, Harry!" She pulled her backpack on and hurried towards the exit. She turned and waived at him before pulling her coat tighter and heading outside.

Harry took a deep breath. _Why is it that I always feel like the world's biggest idiot around her?_ He mentally shrugged in response to his own question. _Wonder if anyone else has this problem? _Harry gathered his purchases and headed home himself.

* * *

Tuesday was a touch warmer than Monday had been, and after he was done with school, Harry went over to Sirius' house. The animagus was going to start showing him how to think strategically. Harry wondered how Sirius would do this – the failed animagus lessons were thick in his thoughts.

"Pup!" Sirius greeted his godson with hot chocolate and a quick hug. "Come on, I've got everything set up in the parlor."

Harry couldn't help but think, _'Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.'_ He followed Sirius, though, sipping on the coco. He saw that there was a tall stack of games on the coffee table. There were both wizarding and muggle games piled there, including _Conqueror's March_, _Risk_, checkers, backgammon, and chess, among others. "What's all this? I thought you were supposed to be teaching me strategy, not playing games?"

Sirius grinned playfully. "That's just it, Pup. All these games are based rather heavily in strategy. You have to think one step ahead of your opponent in order to win. I thought we'd start easy and work our way up to the hard ones. Moony even gave me a list of the games in the order we should play them. When you beat me three games out of five, we'll move on to the next hardest game. They're all out right now because I wanted to let you know what games we would be working with."

"All right… I'm still not convinced, but I'll trust you."

"Good plan," the former Marauder smirked before outlining the objective of all the games that Harry had never heard of before. They started playing about half an hour later. Their first game was called 'mancala,' and involved moving small stones through what looked like a wooden egg crate. It was relatively simple, and Harry easily won, though he'd used the same strategy all three times. Sirius shrugged and said that though he was pretty good at the harder games of strategy, he had never been all that fond of mancala. "Tomorrow, after you're done with school, Remus wants to work with you on apparation for an hour or two, and then he'll take you to Hogwarts for your animagus studies. He also mentioned that Snape said your potion was almost done setting."

Harry grinned and helped Sirius put away the games, "That's good. I wonder what I'll be?"

Sirius shrugged, "I'd hate to guess… I was completely wrong about your house, so I don't think I'd fare much better with this."

"Why not guess? I want to know your reasoning."

Sirius sat the last of the games in their cabinet to the right of the fireplace. "Hmm… Just guessing, I'd say something along the lines of a wild cat of some sort… Maybe a lynx or bobcat. They're really smart, quick, agile, and can be pretty nasty if cornered."

Harry shook his head, "Somehow, I don't see myself as a cat…"

"Well… If you could pick, what would you chose?"

"But you can't pick your own animagus form."

"But if you _could_, what would you want to be?"

Harry sprawled on the sofa. "Hmm… I don't know… I know I wouldn't want to be an insect – I don't fancy the thought of accidentally getting squished." Sirius chuckled. "But, I wouldn't want to be something really big, either. It strikes me that the practicality of being an elephant animagus is rather… limited. There has to be something that's a nice middle ground… Maybe a dog, like you, or a fox."

"Not that I'm not flattered, but why a dog?"

Harry shrugged, "Because they're common enough that having another 'stray' in the area won't be suspicious, and because – despite common belief – they have excellent senses, even sight. Dogs don't miss much. At least, nothing important." He smirked at his godfather, "Though, how _you_ ended up so oblivious, we'll probably never know!"

Sirius got an indignant look on his face and threw a pillow at Harry, "Hey!"

Harry laughed in response.

* * *

Wednesday afternoon, Harry was catching up on some of his muggle homework when his phone rang. A glance at his caller-id showed that it was a restricted number. "Hello?"

"Harry?"

"Yeah… Who's this?"

"Nigel. Listen, you doing anything important this evening?"

Harry grimaced, and it showed in his voice. "Kind of. I've got a ten-page research paper due on Friday for my physics class."

"Oh?" Nigel sounded enthusiastic. "Atomic, astro, or physical?"

Harry snickered, "Sub-atomic."

"Specific topic?"

"The principles of Newtonian gravitational theory as they relate to neutrons."

Harry heard a loud, mocking yawn. "How dull. Examining a topic discussed a trillion times already. Why is it that secondary school never branches out to explore the _really_ interesting topics?"

"Such as?"

"Oh… String theory. The principles of dark matter. Sub-sub-atomic particles like quarks."

"No idea. What did you need?"

"Oh, I just wanted to chat with you about that idea you told me about a while back. If you want, I could come by and help you with that paper."

"Far be it for me to turn down expert help on homework, even though I like the topic. The teachers seem to think that since it's our last year, we should get used to having a workload engineered to bring about as many nervous breakdowns as possible. So… See you in an hour or so?"

Nigel laughed, "Definitely."

Three hours later, Harry was finishing up typing the bibliography for his paper. "What's the MLA style for citing a living person as a reference?"

Nigel shrugged, "No idea. Look it up. That's why the internet is there, you know."

Harry did so, finished entering Nigel as a source, and printed the paper. "Thanks."

"No problem. Anytime. And now, to the really fun stuff. Did you really mean what you said about a magical computer?"

Harry nodded and pulled up the potions program that Jenn had created. "Yeah. This is just one example of _why_. Professor Snape has tested it out and said that it was most useful. He hasn't said so, but I think he'd be first in line if we could mass-produce this program and have a system that would run it in a magic-heavy area."

Nigel let out a low whistle as he quickly scanned through parts of the program. "This is really a good idea, you know. I always thought the magical world was a bit _too_ wrapped up in themselves. Technology is a wonderful thing."

"When it works."

"True."

"So… What did you decide about working for me?"

Nigel exited the program and looked up at Harry, who was standing near the foot of his bed. "It's an intriguing concept. Why do you think you can make it work when others have tried – and failed – previously?"

Harry took a deep breath and sank onto his bed. "You know – I'm sure – about dark matter, right?"

Nigel nodded, "What's that to do with anything?"

"Well… Science isn't really sure _what_ it is, right?" Nigel nodded. "I think that the muggles are detecting magic and don't know it yet. It's the 'yet' part that has me worried. As it stands, should the muggle world become aware of an entire subculture of people who – in comparison to them – are practically godlike in the power they wield, it would bring about another Dark Age, only this time, I don't think either side would survive."

Nigel agreed thoughtfully. "I know, but what do you propose to do about it? It's not like we can just demand everyone play nice."

Harry chuckled, albeit a little humorlessly, "But _we_ could do just that, Nigel. That's why I don't think that the current world atmosphere is at the right level to just thrust everyone together without so much as an, 'Oh, yeah, there's real magic out there, so beware people carrying little sticks.'"

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not just talking about bringing the wizarding world into the twentieth century?"

"Because I'm not," Harry's expression grew intense and a heretofore unheard level of passion laced his tone. "I'm talking about _merging_ the two cultures, Nigel. It has to be done very carefully, though. The first few steps involve introducing wizards to technology more advanced than the average wireless set. The next couple involve _scientifically_ relating the facts of magic to muggles. Of course, we won't be able to come right out and _call _it that. It's going to take some research on our part, too. I'm sure that the Human Genome Project will eventually locate the genes responsible for magic-control… Not to mention that we'll have to get involved in politics… If you want in, I can guarantee it'll be worth it. But if not, then I'll understand. This is probably going to take my entire life to pull off."

"You realize that – barring unnatural death – wizards live an average of a hundred and fifty years, don't you?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "I know. I don't care if I spend the next century working towards this goal – I'm _going_ to do it."

Nigel gave Harry a lopsided smile, "You know, I believe you. And… I'm in. I take it you want me to work on the technology side of things, especially since any contacts I once had in the wizarding world are a good twenty years out-of-date?"

"Spot-on. You'll be working with Arthur Weasley and his sons, Fred and George."

"Where? We obviously can't do this _here_, and I think my garage would be a tad small for what we'll be playing around with."

Harry sighed, "I have no idea, honestly. I was hoping that one of the properties I inherited would work, but most of them are too far away to be practical, and of those that aren't, the remainders are probably not what we're looking for."

"I can look into a location for you," Nigel offered.

Harry looked relieved, "You'd do that?"

"Yeah… I think I've got a pretty good idea what we'll need. Give me a couple of weeks and I'll find us something, even if it's only temporary. What sort of budget are we looking at, and did you want to lease or buy?"

"I'd prefer to own the property, and as to a budget… I don't think that will be a problem. We've got the entire family fortunes of both the Potters and the Blacks backing us."

Nigel's eyes grew wide. "Damn… I should of _known_ that…"

Harry waived it off, "Hell, it isn't like I go about flaunting it."

"True. I take it that Black is in on this, too?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. With you, the total number of folks directly involved is six. Jenn knows my basic plan, and I'm sure that Remus has guessed, but they're not going to be involved on the same level as you and Arthur, Sirius, and me. Fred and George, until I get a better feel for them, won't be told the greater plan, either. They're just going to be working on the techno-magery side of things."

"'Techno-magery'?"

"Well… What else would you call it?"

"Point," Nigel conceded. He glanced at Harry's clock, "Shite, Harry. It's almost ten o'clock. I told Regina I'd meet her for drinks in half an hour."

"Regina?"

"Tall, busty, big blue eyes," Nigel leered. "Absolutely _stunning_."

"And…?"

"What? She's pretty funny, even if she isn't the sharpest crayon in the box."

Harry sighed, "Whatever flips your switch, Nigel. See you later?"

Nigel nodded, "You bet. I'll be in touch."

* * *

The next day, Thursday, Harry had another animagus lesson with Professor McGonagall. His potion had finally finished setting, and he would learn his form that afternoon. Flooing to McGonagall's office directly after getting home from school, he tossed his backpack to the floor with a heavy thud. "Hello, professor. How was your day?"

McGonagall smiled in greeting, "Good afternoon, Potter. It was a day, much like any other. Ginger newt?"

Harry grimaced, "Thanks, but no. I don't think I could eat anything right now… Too nervous."

"I assure you, there is nothing to be nervous about," McGonagall stood and retrieved Harry's flask of animagus potion from her cabinet. Snape had brought it to her over lunch that very afternoon.

"There isn't?" Harry chuckled uneasily. "What if I'm destined to be something relatively useless, like a fish? Or worse yet, plankton. Or what if it's something truly horrid like a cockroach?"

"Mr. Potter?" Minerva's smile was brighter, and she looked to be holding back laughter by force of will alone.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Breathe."

"Yes, ma'am. But what if it really is something like a roach or an earwig or termite or grub or – "

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry blinked and took a deep breath. "Sorry, ma'am."

Professor McGonagall handed Harry the small flask containing the lurid purple potion. "As I said, I can assure you that your worries are all for naught. If you would think back to Volk's book, his entries on the symbolism of specific types of animals, you would realize that you've not got the personality for _any_ of the insects you just mentioned. I also doubt that you would be any sort of water-dwelling animal, as it is not normal for an animagus to have a form to which they would not be comfortable."

Harry relaxed by degrees and soon found himself sitting down across from the professor. They discussed trivial matters for another few moments, then Minerva indicated that he could take the potion at any time. "No time like the present," Harry replied, uncorking the small bottle. He lifted it to his lips and found that it smelled rather like flowers just before they should be thrown out – not unpleasant, but with an undertone of awaiting rancidness. It tasted more like a combination of a dark wine about to decay to vinegar, a flavor not unlike the smell of a summer storm, something hot and peppery, and, oddly enough, watermelon. It tasted better, however, than Stonewall's attempt at Shepherds' Pie, so Harry managed to swallow with a minimum of gagging. He started to ask, "How long before we know?" but only got as far as the second word before he suddenly felt rather dizzy and lightheaded. There was a queer sensation of melting as the room spun and blurred away. Abruptly, everything – internal and external – stopped shifting and solidified.

Colors were brighter, though the shapes of things were blurry, and everything seemed much larger than it should. Harry's thoughts, normally running through his head at about half again the normal speed of a typical teenager, were going much, much faster. His heartbeat and breathing had sped up, too. His hearing didn't seem to be working as it normally did, he was hearing things he knew hadn't been there before, they were much higher-pitched than anything he'd previously heard, and though he could tell that McGonagall was talking, he couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

After a few minutes, which felt inordinately longer to Harry, he shifted back to his normal self. "How… weird."

Minerva had a triumphant smirk on her face. "Well done, Mr. Potter. The next step involves researching your form's biology, habits, habitats, and symbolism. I expect a paper of an appropriate length by our next session, wherein we will start working on achieving the transformation. Will the third of March be acceptable?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, ma'am. May I ask…"

"Oh, I've never yet been wrong about a student's animagus form, though I may not have the _precise_ species or breed down, I've always been right about the type of animal."

"And just what _is_ it?"

She told him, and Harry had to wonder, from what he knew about the animal, just why it suited him.

* * *

Friday was one of those days where Harry wished he'd not gotten out of bed. To start things off, he woke up late and barely had time to get dressed and make sure he had all of his homework with him before rushing to school. In his art classes, nothing he did looked right, and he quit a good twenty minutes early for both classes. Mr. Thatcher seemed to understand, and just laughed it off. Lunch was an unmitigated disaster. Harry ended up dumping a bowl of stew down his front and had to disappear to the loo to spell himself clean. Luckily, only a couple of people saw the accident during lunch, and they were all lower years than Harry, so he wasn't forced to face uncomfortable questions about the pristine state of his uniform. After burning a cake in Life Skills, Harry realized that it wasn't just a random string of accidents. The Fates really were out to ruin his day. He had to wonder what they had in store for his date with Amelia that night.

Finally, the bells signaling the end of the school day sounded. Harry, relieved, hurried to his truck and headed home. Remus wanted to go over some advanced Defense theory before he would be released for his evening.

"A major part of Defense Against the Dark Arts that most people tend to overlook is the fact that one need not use the most powerful spells one has access to in order to bring down an enemy," Remus lectured. He was sitting on Sirius' pocket dueling stage. Harry was standing in the snow covered yard, nursing a mug of hot chocolate. "For example, when dueling with someone whose shield charms are weak, usually a simple stunner is enough to bring them down. If they're not bothering to shield at all, you can usually get away with a petrificus or similar binding charm. If they are shielding well, then you'd need to get them to move, as the only shields that move with the caster are those which require a high level of power and concentration to maintain. Once you get your opponent to move beyond the area protected by the shield spell, it should be a relatively simple matter to stun or bind them."

Harry nodded thoughtfully and finished his coco, setting the mug down on a snowy garden table. "If that's so, then why are there more powerful spells than stunners and the like?"

"Partly because there are times when they would be needed – I doubt that any of the Death Eaters or Voldemort would be content to let you 'win,' so-to-speak, with something so simple. Another reason more powerful spells exist is because, when dealing with a non-human opponent, you often _need_ them. The last reason simply has to do with the fact that people like to invent new spells simply to see if they can – not unlike how the muggles enjoy inventing _things_.

"And now, Harry, some practical work in the theory just discussed. If you would take the other end of the platform? Nothing but the low-level hexes, charms, and curses."

Harry smiled and took his place.

Two hours later, Harry was rather sore – Remus had managed to _stupefy_ him right off the platform, making him land awkwardly across the garden table. The hot shower seemed to help with the aches, though, and when he was done, he hurriedly dressed in some of the clothes he had purchased at the mall. Since he still didn't know where Amelia wanted to go for dinner, he decided on a pair of khaki pants, a dark blue shirt, and a plain black blazer. He tucked a tie in his pocket, just in case, and made sure his wand was accessible, his wallet in his pocket, and his mobile clipped to his belt before hurrying to Jenn to have him fix his hair.

"Take the girl dancing, Harry," she advised, running a comb through his unruly hair.

"What?"

"Dancing, Harry. You know, when there's music and groups of people moving in time to it?"

Harry snorted, "I know _that_, but… why?"

Jenn shrugged and added something to his hair that reminded Harry of the clear jelly he'd worked with Professor Snape in his potions lessons the week before, though he doubted it was gleaned from jellyfish. At least, he hoped that wasn't the case. "Girls tend to like dancing."

"Do I have to?"

"Quit whining. Yes," Jenn had that stubborn set to her shoulders that Harry knew meant real trouble if he didn't just do as she asked. "If I have to, I'll call her and tell her to make sure you take her out for a proper date. Consider it penance for how poorly the last one turned out, even though it wasn't _your_ fault it ended so badly."

Harry sighed and had to restrain himself from running a hand through the hair that Jenn was working so diligently on. "Okay, okay. I'll take her dancing, if she wants."

"Actually, I hadn't realized the idea was so distasteful to you. Don't you go clubbing with Nigel and Tim every now and then?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I do, but… This is a tad different than that, you know. I mean it's one thing to go to a club with a couple of blokes and have a dance or two with someone you've never met before… If you end up making a fool of yourself, it's not likely you'll ever have to see them again."

Jenn laughed, long and loud. "Oh, Harry! Don't worry so much! I doubt that there's all that much you could do to cause _that_ level of embarrassment!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "You'd be surprised."

Jenn shrugged and replaced the cap on the bottle of goop she'd been using. "Not likely," she replied. "I used to be your age, once upon a time, though you probably doubt it. But, on the upside, your hair's about as presentable as it's going to get. You know, you should consider letting it grow out some, just to keep it from sticking up so much. It'd probably be easier to deal with a ponytail and look reasonably good than to go running about like you'd just inserted your finger in the toaster."

Harry chuckled and thanked Jenn for her help. "I'll be in later, don't know precisely what time."

Jenn waived a hand, "Don't worry about it. Just make sure that if something like what happened last time happens again, it's not the hospital that calls me!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry gave her a parody of a military salute and turned to hurry out to Viridian.

Jenn grabbed his shoulder, "Hang on a tic." She rummaged around in her dresser for a moment. "Ah, here it is!" She pulled out a long, thin box. "Give this to her, Harry." She handed him the box.

He opened it to see a small, polished sphere of rose quartz suspended from a length of plain gold chain. His confusion must have shown on his face because Jenn laughed again and explained, "It was given to me a long, long time ago, Harry. And the person who gave it to me _wasn't _Allen. In fact, I think he'd be quite upset that I even still had it."

"Who gave it to you?"

"A boy I dated for a while shortly before I met Allen. Go ahead and take it, Harry. It really doesn't mean all that much to me, and you _should_ have something to give her."

"I suppose it's a bit late to stop by a store now, anyway." Harry replied, pocketing the necklace and checking the time. "I really ought to get going, else I'll be late."

"Do so," Jenn smiled. "Oh, and Harry?" she called out, just as he was reaching the door. "Have fun." He grinned at her and nodded.

The drive to Amelia's house was both longer and shorter than he remembered… He spent most of the time fretting about what might go wrong, before firmly telling himself not to worry so much about it. Whatever happened would happen and there wasn't anything that worrying was going to do about it.

When he finally arrived at her house, he was ushered inside by her little sister, Charlotte, much as he had the previous time. Patty was waiting in the living room with a man Harry'd not yet met, he assumed he was Amelia's father. Patty smiled and rose to her feet when the exuberant Charlotte offered to take his coat. "It's good to see you're well, Harry."

Harry ducked his head, wondering if all parents of teenaged girls knew precisely what to say to embarrass their daughters' dates. "Thanks, ma'am."

The taller, older version of Amelia chuckled, "'Patty.'"

Harry met her gaze and smiled a little. "Sorry, Patty."

Patricia motioned for Harry to join them properly in the room – he _had_ been lurking in the doorway. "This is my husband, Arnold."

The man sitting on the sofa stood and shook Harry's hand, "Pleasure to meet you, Amelia's told us quite a bit about you." He was likely the tallest man Harry'd ever met, likely around six foot, seven inches or so. Arnold had hair a shade or two darker than the chestnut brown of Patty and Amelia, and it was shot through with grey. His eyes were an intense blue, darker than Amelia's, and Harry realized that the man probably didn't miss much.

"Good to meet you, too, sir." Somehow, Harry didn't think that Mr. White would be asking him to call him 'Arnold' any time soon. All-in-all, Harry felt thoroughly intimidated by him.

"Amelia should be down shortly," Patty said, sitting back down. "Go ahead and have a seat, Harry."

Harry nervously sat on the edge of a floral-print wingback chair, set at an angle to the low sofa. Arnold, who was obviously far more limber than a man his age should have been, seemed to fold in half to return to his own seat on the far end of the sofa. "Amelia tells us you attend Stonewall."

There was a quality to Mr. White's voice that Harry wasn't sure how to identify. He reasoned that it was just a father's prerogative to automatically dislike any boy his daughter brought home. "Yes, sir."

"Any plans on what to do with yourself after you're done with school?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, sir. I'm planning on going into technological research and development."

Arnold's eyes narrowed. "To my understanding, that requires several years of university study."

Harry nodded. That would normally be the case… And, truth be told, he still did want to go to uni, but he wasn't sure how feasible that particular desire would be, what with Voldemort and all… Out loud, Harry merely replied with another, "Yes, sir."

"What universities were you planning on applying to?"

Now, _that_ wasn't a question he was prepared to answer. Of course, he knew the universities available in the UK, but he also knew that the best technological university programs were all in the US… He didn't want to answer in such a way as to make the man sitting mere feet from him angry. "I honestly don't really know, sir," Harry replied. He decided to stretch the truth a little. "I'm going to be working for a year or two to save up the money to attend uni, so I still have a little while to figure it out. However, a friend of mine went to MIT. It might be nice to go there."

"Working?" The man actually sounded a little shocked. "Where?"

"At Kellerman's Service Shop – the same place I've worked since I was fifteen."

Mr. White nodded thoughtfully. "I thought you looked familiar. Had my car in there about a year and a half ago… You run the computer, don't you?"

Harry smiled, suddenly remembering the man, though he hadn't seemed quite as tall then. "I did, sir, but starting about a year ago, I began getting trained on how to do the repairs."

Amelia seemed to choose that precise moment to make an appearance. Harry was glad; he wasn't sure how many more questions he could have sat through. "Stop pestering Harry, Daddy."

Unlike every other time Harry'd seen Amelia, her hair wasn't pulled into a ponytail. Instead, it was twisted into some elegant formation on the back of her head and held in place by a golden barrette. She was wearing a dark green dress that was sleeveless, but had a high collar, that only emphasized the fact that she was really rather pretty. The dress fell to just above her knees, and Harry noticed that her shoes matched her dress. _Just how do girls do that?_ he wondered. _Do they dye their shoes every time they have a date, or do they just make sure to have a pair of shoes every shade of the rainbow?_ Harry mentally shook his head to derail that train of thought. "You look great, Amelia."

She smiled at him, "Thanks. Let me get my coat, and we can go." She leveled a glare at her father. "Quit interrogating my date, Daddy," she demanded before heading to a coat rack for her white, fluffy coat.

Harry was happy that he'd decided to dress up a bit for this date. He'd said that Amelia could select the restaurant for dinner and he'd pay, but he hadn't expected her to select one of those places where the name was unpronounceable and the menu unreadable. She claimed it was Italian, and that the owner was a friend of her father's – which explained the dirty looks they'd been given by the group of people waiting for tables when they'd been seated almost immediately. He wasn't too sure about the Italian part of the claim, though. He eventually consented to have Amelia order for the both of them.

Harry ended up with some sort of seafood served on pasta with a thick cream sauce. Amelia had had another form of pasta, only hers was stuffed with cheeses and slathered in a slightly different cream sauce. Their conversation drifted over topics as diverse as politics and their favorite classes. Harry found out that Amelia was planning on going into law when she finished school. For dessert, Amelia ordered something Harry couldn't pronounce when he'd tried, but found that he enjoyed immensely. It was a chocolate-and-coffee-flavored confection that Harry thought might be mildly alcoholic, but he wasn't sure, and wasn't going to expose that ignorance by asking. As they were finishing up the sweet, he suddenly remembered the necklace that Jenn had insisted he give Amelia. He took a sip of water while reaching into his pocket and sat the little box on the table. "Here," he said.

Amelia's face lit up, "Ooh… A present? For me?"

Harry returned her grin. "Yeah. I hope you like it."

She made short work of opening the box and exclaimed over the little pendant. "It's positively beautiful! Help me put it on, please, Harry?"

Harry stood and circled the small table to help her with the clasp on the chain before returning to his seat. He noticed that they'd acquired several spectators. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he replied, thinking _I wonder why she's making such a big deal out of a silly little bit of rock and some gold chain? Are all girls like this over jewelry?_

A short time later, the check arrived and Harry paid. _Isn't a hundred and fifty quid a bit much for some crab on noodles?_ He mentally shrugged and filed 'utterly expensive, unpronounceable, though delicious food' under the mental list he had titled 'Inexplicable Things that Girls Like.' Right above it was 'shiny rocks and gold.' He thought he was beginning to understand why Nigel and Tim had never married.

Once back out at the truck, Harry asked Amelia if she wanted to do anything else. Amelia shrugged in such a way that Harry was positive she really _did_, but didn't want to say. "A movie?" he suggested. "Dancing? Really, Amelia. Pick something. I'm trying to apologize for last weekend," he motioned to the elastic splint she was wearing on her wrist.

"Oh, you don't need to apologize for that," she smiled a little vaguely. "It's no worse than the time I broke my ankle ice-skating a couple of years ago. Besides, I got a phone call this week from some woman named Andromeda Tonks. She claimed that she's your lawyer?" Harry nodded. "Anyway, she said you're going to be pressing charges against your cousin. Wanted to know if I'd be a witness. Told her yes. But, back to the other topic, I don't really care what we do. It's only eight… I don't want to go home just yet, and I picked where we went for dinner. It's your turn to pick something."

Harry couldn't fault her logic. "Hmm…" He thought back to Jenn's suggestion that he take her dancing. It actually sounded a bit more fun now that he was out and about, and no longer suffering the bout of pre-date nerves. "Come on, get in," he opened the truck door for her. "I think I know what we can do for a couple of hours."

Amelia got a funny look on her face but climbed into the truck. As Harry closed the door, he thought he heard her mutter, "Quit thinking that, he's _not _Gregory."

He wanted to ask who Gregory was, but decided not to. Instead, he drove to a small club that he, Nigel, and Tim had gone to the previous summer when the Dursleys were on holiday and Harry staying with the cat-obsessed Mrs. Figg. It turned out to be the right decision, as Harry and Amelia had fun and lost all track of time. Neither were all that interested in alcohol, but the band was actually a lot better than most house-bands were given credit for, and when the band wasn't playing, the jukebox was. By the time Harry dropped Amelia off at her house, at about eleven o'clock, Harry was pretty sure he'd spent a good fifty pounds just on soda and bottled water. When he returned home, he found that Jenn and Sirius were sitting up in the lounge, and Remus had obviously fallen asleep reading.

"That can't be comfortable," Harry whispered, indicating the awkward angle at which Remus' neck was bent.

Sirius grinned, "Don't bet on it, Pup. I've seen him sleep in far odder positions. There was this one time when he fell asleep studying… I think we were thirteen or so… Anyway, it was in the library at Hogwarts, and by the time I found him, he had his head pillowed on his hands on the chair, and the rest of him was sprawled across a good twenty books or so on the table."

Harry winced, "Ouch."

Sirius shrugged, "In any case… How'd your date go?"

Jenn looked unnaturally interested in Harry's response. "Um… Fine, I guess. No one ended up in the hospital this time around…" Harry was phenomenally glad that the streak of bad luck seemed to have stopped when he started getting ready for the evening.

"Well, considering your record thus far," Sirius replied, his eyes alight with mischief, "I suppose it ought to be a major accomplishment!"

Harry sighed, "How so?"

"Well… You're now one and one, aren't you? You _are_ going to go out with her again, right?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably."

"If the next one goes as well, then your good dates will finally outnumber the bad ones, which is what any reasonable person should hope for." Sirius sounded as though he were imparting the secret of the universe.

Harry had the feeling that, to Sirius, at least, he _was_.

* * *

"You have done quite well, Bella. I am pleased." Harry mentally sighed, _Not another bloody vision!_

The witch in question preened under her lord's praise. "Thank you, milord."

"Crouch shall be joining us on the morrow," Voldemort ignored her thanks. "Be sure another room is made ready for him."

"Yes, milord." Bellatrix bowed. "About the information you had me obtain…"

"Do not fret, my Bella. It will be put to good use."

"But when, milord?"

"Soon," the Dark Lord replied.

The vision ended as abruptly as it began and Harry sat up in his bed. "Damnit, I really wish I would either see the whole story, or nothing at all! Or else some _new bloody information_." he muttered as he grabbed his dream journal to record the latest entry before going back to sleep.

* * *

Saturday, the Kellermans were invited to dinner with the Petersons, which they, of course, accepted. Remus and Harry tagged along, and Sirius, too, though he was in Padfoot form. "If we gain anymore people, hon, we're going to need a bigger car," Allen wryly observed as they backed out of the drive. Chad was working with Moody again, though he hadn't yet told Harry any of what they figured out so far.

Mike met them at the door, and Harry could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. Bea really was a fantastic cook, as long as it was something she had a recipe for. Harry once heard about her attempts at spontaneous cooking… He never wanted to be the one subjected to her little 'experiments,' as Mike had dubbed them. Ashley obviously had heard the front door open, and nearly tripped over herself hurrying down the stairs to greet them. "Harry Harry Harry! Guess what!" Harry caught the four year-old just when it seemed she was going to crash into the floor.

"What?"

"I'm this many now!" She held up four fingers.

"I know. Did you get my present?"

She nodded vigorously, "Yep! Thanks a whole lot, too! I love my Snuffy."

"'Snuffy'?" Harry asked, turning to Mike to explain.

Mike shrugged, "I guess she figured that was as good a name as any for a giant stuffed panda."

"Oh," was Harry's only response.

Ashley squirmed to get down, and when Harry sat her on her feet, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him towards the stairs. "C'm on, Harry! Wanna show you my prezzies!"

With a long suffering glance towards Mike and Remus, Harry followed the little girl up to her room. He swore he heard laughter following him up the stairs, and a comment from Mike about how 'Uncle Harry' should come by more often. About twenty minutes later, after a nearly incomprehensible monologue from Ashley about all the things she'd been given for her birthday, they were called downstairs for dinner. Supper turned out to be roast chicken and dumplings. Ashley spotted Sirius, still in dog form, mere seconds into dinner, and had to be told – no fewer than six times – not to feed him her Brussels sprouts. Harry was wondering just why Sirius was eating them, and, in fact, why he'd tagged along at all if he was just going to be a dog all evening. Harry resolved to ask him later.

Conversation was refreshingly light, and Harry got filled in on all the gossip he'd missed out on by not working the last few weeks.

"At least I can start working again once school's out," Harry commented. "I sort of feel rather like I'm not doing what I'm supposed to, even though I'm getting along well in class."

"What of your… other studies?" Bea asked.

Remus smiled and launched in on a lengthy discussion of how well Harry was getting caught up in his magic. He even shared his OWL scores, which resulted in Bea promising him a proper cake to celebrate. Harry really tried to get her to back down, but there really was no dealing with her when she had a notion stuck in her head – she and Jenn really were alike in that regard.

The evening ended with Harry promising Mike to go bowling again with him, Tim, and Nigel the next weekend.

On the way to the car, Harry's phone rang. _I'm popular this week,_ he thought answering it. "Hello?"

"Hey, Harry. Nigel here."

"Yeah, I know. You're the only person I know who calls me that's got a private number on the caller id. What did you need?"

"Oh, not much. You doing anything tomorrow? I think I found just the place for the business."

Harry shoved Sirius over more so that he could sit in the back seat of the car, "Oh? What did you find? And where?"

"Downtown London. There's a whole building for sale. Priced rather cheep, too. Previous owner was one of those dot-com businesses that went under, they're being forced to sell everything. If we hurry, we ought to be able to walk away with a top-of-the-line mainframe, too."

"Sounds interesting. I take it, you want me to see the location tomorrow?"

"That was the plan."

"I suppose I could do that. I didn't really have any other plans… maybe paint a little, or work a bit more on the Business Plan."

"Well, I'll swing by your place around noonish. The realtor said she'd meet us there at about one. And you _don't _want to know what I had to do to get her to agree to letting us see the place on a Sunday."

Harry snickered, "You're probably right. Sounds good to me. We'll bring Sirius along, too, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. See you tomorrow."

"You too. Bye." Harry ended the call and realized that not only was Padfoot staring at him, but so were Allen, Jenn, and Remus. "What?"

It was Jenn that broke the silence. "Somehow, I think I speak for all of us that the only thing we could picture was you, about ten years from now, wearing one of those pretentious three-piece suits, and having innumerable unintelligible conversations on a mobile."

"Huh?"

Remus just chuckled as Allen started the car and drove them home.

* * *

The building Nigel had located was everything Harry had dreamed of for BKE and more. It was thirty-two stories tall, with three levels of basements, it's own underground station, parking, and more. On the tour, he could almost see the different departments that would be housed there, and the work they would be doing. He could tell that Sirius was envisioning the same things he was. When the realtor – a stunningly ugly woman with bulging brown eyes that had yellows instead of whites and a large, hairy mole right between her eyes – left them for a moment at the end of the lengthy tour, they were in the ex-CEO's office on the topmost floor. Much of the equipment and furniture previously owned by the dot-com company that went belly-up remained. Nigel and Sirius took seats on a chrome-and-leather sofa while Harry perched on the glass topped desk.

"So… What do you think?" Nigel asked a little nervously.

Harry and Sirius exchanged a look and said, simultaneously, "We'll take it."

All three then broke down laughing. "Seriously, this place is almost perfect for what I've got in mind," Harry said. "I'd say I should give you a raise, but I don't think I'm paying you just yet."

Nigel chuckled, "You're not, not yet. However, I did good, yeah?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. We'll need to have Arthur come in and pick a floor for his and his sons' work, find out what they'll need, and get a contractor to come in and remodel, but yeah. This place is most excellent."

"Glad you think so," the realtor said as she returned from wherever she'd been. "I take it you're interested in purchasing the property?" She addressed her comments to Nigel.

Harry jumped off the desk and strolled over to her, "Yeah, _I_ am."

She blinked at Harry. Then laughed. "Oh, good one, child. I believe I was speaking to your… father?"

Nigel snorted and Sirius outright laughed. "No, Sandra," Nigel said. "Didn't I tell you I was scouting for my employer? Well… believe it or not, this is him." He nodded to Harry.

"But… But… You're just a kid!"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, "Your point? You think I can't have money, too?"

"But… I can't sell a commercial property to a minor."

"I'm emancipated. I have the cash, I want the building. However, if you persist in this attitude, I may just decide that a different location would better suit my needs after all." Sure, Harry was seventeen, he _knew_ that, but what he said _was_ true; the woman's attitude was really getting on his nerves. Harry turned to Nigel, "Aren't there laws about age-discrimination?"

Nigel shrugged, "Beats me, Harry. You'd have to ask Tonks."

The name seemed to catch 'Sandra's' attention. "Tonks? Theodore Tonks? As in Tonks, Tonks, and Winslow?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah? What's that to you?"

"He's _your_ lawyer?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. I repeat, so?"

She swallowed. "My apologies. Why don't we go back to my office to work out the details?"

Harry honestly had no idea why she was suddenly so amicable, just from the mention of his solicitors' name, but he could guess. "Why don't we do that?" he motioned for the realtor to precede them out of the room.

Sirius paused by Harry's ear before following Nigel, "I think you've been spending entirely too much time around Slytherins, Harry."

"How so?"

"Well… You've got their intimidation down pat."

Harry grinned, "I'll tell Professor Snape you said so." He hurried through the door before Sirius could respond.

It took several hours of negotiations, and before it was over, Harry'd had to call Ted, but by the time that Sirius, Nigel, and Harry sat down to a late lunch/early dinner, Harry was now the new owner of the high-rise. After thoroughly warding the booth they were sitting at for privacy, the three of them spent the next couple of hours discussing various details they would need for BKE, including, but not limited to whether or not they should hire a cleaning service or simply purchase house elves, what sort of security they ought to have, and what types of technology they'd need to start things off. They also realized that they'd need to bring Arthur by at his earliest convenience, and that they'd need to find a magical contractor to ward the floors devoted to solely magical pursuits – among other things. Nigel said that he'd be surprised if they would be able to open their doors earlier than March of 1999, what with all that needed to be done.

* * *

The next couple of weeks flew past for Harry, between his magical studies – Remus was finally teaching him how to apparate, as well as more advanced dueling and DADA, and Professor Snape was showing him how to brew irregular potions, of which several magical paints were classified, and researching his animagus form on his own – his normal schoolwork – Nigel had helped him grab the top score in his class on the physics paper – and going out at least once, sometimes twice a week with Amelia, not to mention periodical updates from Ted and Andie about both BKE and Dudley's investigation-and-upcoming-trial, and sporadic reports from Chad, who was currently staying with the ex-auror, Moody. Harry was beyond rushed and couldn't be happier about it. The only thing he really wished was that it was spring, so he could help Jenn with her award-winning roses. He'd wanted to learn her secret ever since he'd met her and seen her garden. He even remembered Valentines' Day, and spent the day with Amelia at a winter carnival where he'd won her a small stuffed bear, and they'd both gotten sick on one of the rides.

February passed into March before Harry felt he'd even gotten used to dating his papers with a '2' for the month. When March arrived, he took all the research he'd gathered about his animagus form and channeled it into a readable paper. He hoped that the almost 2500 words would be what Professor McGonagall had termed 'an appropriate length.' He wasn't going to copy the entire thing out onto parchment, in any case. He knew his handwriting left something to be desired, and had no wish to foist it off on an unsuspecting professor. Harry reread the paper one final time before getting ready to floo to Hogwarts and hand it in.

_**My Animagus Form**_

By Harry J. Potter

_Scientific Classification:**  
**Kingdom:_Animal_  
Phylum:_Chordata_**  
**Class:_Aves_**  
**Order:_Apodidae_**  
**Family:_Trochilidae

_Genus: _Trochilus

_Species: _polytmus

Trochiluspolytmus_ is also known as the Streamertail hummingbird. As the most abundant and widespread bird of Jamaica, this particular bird is identifiable by its bright green plumage. The adult male is hailed as the most spectacular hummingbird, often with two long tail feathers which emit a whirring noise in flight. When lacking streamers, the male is identifiable by his bright green body feathers with a black crown, the lateral feathers of which are slightly elongated to form tufts on the back of his head. The bill of this bird is mostly red. Female Streamertails lack the streamers for which the species is named, and are usually a lighter shade of green, with a white underbelly._

_Hummingbirds, in general, are the smallest species of birds currently on the planet, and are indigenous to only the New World; their territories spread from Alaska and northern Canada all the way through the equatorial regions and southward to Venezuela. The smallest – the Bee Hummingbird (often mistaken for an insect) is two and a fourth inches long and seven-tenths of an ounce – to the largest – the Giant Hummingbird is eight and a half inches long and weighs approximately seven ounces. As stated previously, the particular species which forms my animagus self is native to Jamaica, though the Streamertail is by no means the only species of hummingbird native to the Caribbean islands; 18 other species are also found in that region. All told, there are 328 separate species of hummingbird found in the aforementioned regions. The Streamertail hummingbird is also the longest hummingbird, at approximately ten inches, though it is nowhere near the biggest. The majority of his length comes from his two tail feathers, which can be three to five times longer than his actual body._

_When compared to other birds, the hummingbird is quite unique. It is the only bird that is capable of active hovering – not just riding thermals – and it is also the only bird that can fly in any direction, including laterally and backwards. The reason for this lies in the hummingbird's distinctive anatomy. Most birds fly holding their bodies parallel to the ground, using chest and shoulder muscles to create lift by flapping their wings through their shoulder – or, in some species, the elbow – joint. Hummingbirds' wings are what would correlate to a human's hands, their flapping to produce lift comes from the wrist joint. What allows for the hovering, lateral, and backward movement is the fact that hummingbirds aren't limited to the standard oval shape of moving their wings. Since their wings flap through their wrists, it allows them to produce a figure-eight motion which can provide lift without forward momentum. Subtle changes in the exact shape of that figure-eight provide directional movement. The wings tend to beat at an average of 53 times per second, with the fastest ever recorded at 80 beats per second (Amethyst Woodstar) and the slowest at 10 to 15 beats per second (Giant Hummingbird.)_

_The wing joint is not the only inimitable facet of hummingbird anatomy, they manage to score several other highly specialized features. The hummingbird has the largest brain, relative to size, of any other bird, comprising approximately 4.2 percent of its total body weight. They also have, proportionately, the largest hearts of any living animal, accounting for 1.75 to 2.5 percent of its weight. When resting, a hummingbird's heart beats approximately 480 times per minute and can go as high as 1260 beats per minute when excited. A resting hummingbird will also breathe approximately 250 times in a minute. Their lungs include nine internal air sacs connected to their lungs by tubes. These sacs, along with their quick breathing, help to keep the birds from overheating. It is also presumed that these air sacs also help limit the weight of these tiny birds, making for more efficient flight. The average body temperature of a hummingbird is approximately 105 degrees Fahrenheit, or around 40 – 41 degrees Celsius. Hummingbird bones are porous, but some – like the wing and leg bones – are hollow, as most bird bones tend to be. A keel-shaped sternum allows a greater area for attachment of their proportionately large flight muscles. The extremely long 'hand bones' provide support for the primary feathers and enable the hummingbird to beat their wings so rapidly without bending the wing in a direction it shouldn't go. Hummingbird eyes are large and immobile, with both monocular and binocular vision; both eyes will typically outweigh the brain. Despite contrary myth, hummingbirds do indeed have feet, though they don't walk; they perch, and will fly to change their position by so much as a centimeter._

_Hummingbirds roost, or sleep, with their necks pulled down, heads out, and bills pointed up in the air; odd, considering most birds sleep with their heads tucked under their wings. Speaking of their wings, again, hummingbirds are known as such due to the humming sound that the flapping of their wings create. Most hummingbirds don't sing, but instead have a series of squeaks; the only species in North America known to sing is the _Calypteanna_, or Anna's Hummingbird._

_Hummingbirds, like most birds also have a crop – a specially modified part of their digestive system that stores food immediately after it is eaten. After filling the crop by either drinking nectar or eating small insects, a hummingbird will rest while the crop slowly releases the food into the rest of the digestive system. It also serves as a 'storage area' for nesting mothers. When feeding her baby birds, she will regurgitate food from the crop – not from the stomach, as is commonly believed. When the crop is about halfway empty, a hummingbird will begin to forage for food once again. Their diet, as previously mentioned, consists of small insects like flies, ants, small beetles, and tiny wasps, as well as nectar and, sometimes, tree sap. The insects are eaten for their protein content, and the nectar for the sugar it contains, allowing the hummingbird the energy to maintain their high metabolisms, and they will feed every fifteen to twenty minutes all day long. Hummingbirds eat half their weight each day, and drink eight times their weight in water. A hovering three to four ounce bird burns 2100 calories per hour._

_Their bills and tongues are specifically designed for their diet, as is the case with most birds. Their tongues are disproportionately long in relation to their body-size, and can roll into a straw-like tube for gathering nectar. Unlike most other birds, hummingbirds' bills have a highly pronounced overbite, so-to-speak. The upper bill curves around the sides of the smaller lower bill. When hummingbirds feed, the bill is opened slightly, allowing their tongues to get to the nectar. The bill can only be opened a limited ways, and, aside from nectar-gathering, it is also used for catching insects, preening, gathering nesting material, feeding babies, and attacking rivals._

_When courting, a male hummingbird will fly anywhere from 75 to 150 feet into the air, then drop, bill down, until he is within an inch or two of her head. Mating lasts anywhere from three to five seconds, and then the male disappears. Female hummingbirds finish the nest and raise the chicks on their own. Nests are about one to one and a half inches tall and an average of two inches in diameter. They can be made from moss, leaves, thistledown, spider webs, lichen, or bark fibers. Depending on the species, the same female may return to her nesting site from the year before and build a new nest on top of the old one. If this female has been returning to the same nesting site for years, her nest may be several inches high. The average hummingbird lays two eggs, though there have been documented cases of nests found with as many as six eggs, and are normally about a half-inch long. It takes approximately 40 days from the time the eggs are laid until the young are fledged. The mother will feed the baby birds with regurgitated insects and nectar from her crop. The nestlings, themselves, are blind, bald, and have underdeveloped bills at the time of hatching, though they grow quickly. At eight to twelve days after hatching, they will be able to maintain their own body temperature, and at about twenty-one days after hatching, they will fledge. If the weather is too cold, a hummingbird will go into a nearly hibernative state known as torpor. In this state, its body temperature will drop to around 66.5 degrees Fahrenheit (approximately 19 degrees Celsius.) Nesting females won't go into this state, however, otherwise her chicks might die._

_Studies of fledgling success, from hatching to full feathering, ranged from 17 percent to 59 percent of the number of eggs laid. Predation accounts for most of the nest mortality. Hummingbird mothers will fearlessly attack hawks, crows, jays, chipmunks, snakes and even wasps in defense of her eggs and young, but not always successfully. Accidents, high winds, cold, heavy rains, and heat, account for the remainder of fledgling deaths. Deaths of adult hummingbirds can be attributed to natural predators, such as hawks, kestrels, large frogs, large fishes, tropical spiders, cats, and praying mantis. Other deaths can come from spider webs, windows, bad sugar mix (someone who has not properly cleaned or mixed the syrup in a hummingbird-feeder,) storms, and weather affecting flower growth or insect populations. Barring these factors, a hummingbird can otherwise expect to live five to ten years or more._

_When fully fledged, hummingbirds have more feathers per square inch than any other bird, though they have no down feathers. Hummingbird feathers have two different ways of producing color. One is through the actual pigment of the feather (its melanin content) and the other is called 'structural color,' the iridescence reflecting off the facets of the feather itself; this reflective feature is what causes a hummer's gorget to glitter when one is looking at the bird head-on and to become duller when seeing the same bird from another angle. Curiously, the pigment of hummingbird feathers does not include red or yellow; any markings of these colors on a hummingbird is solely due to the feathers' structural color. _

_A hummingbird's natural habitat is that of natural or garden areas that provide trees, bushes, flowers rich with nectar, and safe places to roost and nest. Typically they will not be found at seashores, grasslands, or treeless sage areas unless migrating. The Rufous Hummingbird has the longest migration of any hummingbird, more than 5,000 miles a year. It flies from central Mexico to Alaska and back again. Hummingbirds migrate, not in flocks, but solitarily. Males will leave first, followed by females several weeks later. On the south-bound journey, the young leave last, flying alone on their first migration with no adult to guide them.In its migration to Mexico, the tiny Ruby-throated hummingbird, almost unbelievably, tackles crossing the Gulf of Mexico, not bothering to go around. Its cruising speed is about 27 miles an hour, so if conditions are favorable, it can make the transit, non-stop, in around 18 hours; but the passage is a formidable one and it taxes the hummingbird to the limit of its endurance. A head wind, even a mild one, may hamper it so severely that it will never reach the far shore and perish at sea._

_Turning from the scientific data available on these remarkable birds to their associated symbolism, I have found that nearly all Native American tribes believed hummingbirds to be associated with beauty, wonder, agility, sweetness, adaptability, intelligence, joy, and thankfulness. Since all hummingbird species are found only in the Western Hemisphere, wizardkind has adopted many of these same beliefs. I have also found that, among the more northern tribes of Native Americans, the hummingbird was seen as a messenger of good news and luck._

_Going into more detail, I consulted several guides to Native American Medicine Animal beliefs, and located the following passage online (on my computer):_

"If you have hummingbird Medicine, you adapt easily to whatever situation you may find yourself in, and make the most of your new circumstances. You don't waste time looking back and wishing for 'what was' for you are concerned with making the most of 'what is.' Also, you could never become addicted to any artificial stimulants, for you find joy in your own heart. You take great pleasure in spreading joy and love and beauty to all around you, and have the gift of taking that inner joy into new and different surroundings. You have a talent for finding the good in people, and are not put off by a gruff or abrupt exterior, for you know that, if you can only get beyond that tough outside layer, you'll find goodness and beauty inside. You may have a gift for working with flowers, maybe growing them to share with others, or using flower essences for healing; aromatherapy may be your calling. You have high energy and a spirit that must be free. To restrict that wonderful, free, loving energy is to suffer great depressions and feelings of uselessness. Hummingbird must fly free in search of beauty, spreading joy and love to all it touches."

_I admit that when I read that passage, I found myself chuckling. As Jenn may tell you, I often have trouble sitting still. I also find a supreme satisfaction in my artwork – though, as I have often mentioned, I am relieved I no longer have to rely solely on it to survive once I leave school. I have also been told several times by my teachers at Stonewall that I seem to trust too easily – I don't mind talking with those kids that most others refuse to go near. Somehow, I just know they aren't as bad as people make them out to be. I also fully admit that I try not to dwell on the past – what's done is done and it can't be undone. I'd much rather deal with the here and now, and what may happen tomorrow, than what I could have or should have done yesterday. The only thing I'm not too sure about is the spreading of 'joy and love,' though I do admit that since showing up at Allen's, my life, at least, has improved tenfold._

_After researching these highly intriguing little birds, I must say, in conclusion, that I am happy to be a hummingbird animagus, despite the fact that it's not that practical to be one in England._

The paper also included a bibliography, citing all of the websites where he'd learned the information he presented, and also had several pages of photographs of his specific animagus form, as well as charts of the internal anatomy of hummingbirds in general. Harry nodded and tucked the paper into a plastic folder to keep it organized, and headed to the floo.

* * *

Over the Easter holidays, Harry spent a couple of days hanging out with Ron and Hermione in Hogsmeade, as well as working on some important research papers for his muggle classes. The third day of the holiday found Harry beginning occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.

"Now, Potter, the discipline of occlumency is entirely mental; where you have to this point been learning primarily how to duel physically with your magic, occlumency and legilimency are dueling solely with your thoughts," Professor Snape was standing in the Kellerman lounge lecturing Harry on his latest addition to his magical studies.

"Remus said it was also classified as a wandless magic."

Snape nodded, "It is. It is also a touch more difficult to learn than how to cast a wandless charm like _lumos_ or _wingardium leviosa_. Those merely require force of will and an adequate supply of magical power; nearly anyone higher in power than a squib could learn to cast wandlessly if they so desired. However, the skill of occlumency, and legilimency, as well, requires mental organization – a trait which is deplorably lacking in today's wizarding society – in addition to will and power."

"Mental organization? What, exactly, does that mean?"

"Since legilimency is what occlumency defends against, the easiest way to begin to develop occlumentical barriers is to layer your thoughts and memories in such a way that those thoughts and memories you don't care if your opponent sees are on the topmost level of your consciousness, with each subsequent layer being thoughts that gradually become more sensitive the deeper your opponent probes."

Harry scratched out a couple of notes on a spiral-bound notebook. "I'm sure you're correct, since you've gone through this before in learning and all, but… I had a thought just now – and don't _smirk_ at me. You bloody well _know_ I think. But, if the purpose of occlumency is to… I guess 'misdirect' is the word I'm looking for. Misdirect a legilimency intrusion, wouldn't a chaotic mindset be just as difficult to make sense of? In fact, wouldn't a chaotic mindset be more to the point, since it would confuse a legilimens, rather than provide him or her with an orderly set of memories and thoughts to sift through?"

Snape nodded, "That is a point to consider, however, it only works on specific individuals – primarily those who have what muggle psychologists have termed 'Asbergers Syndrome;' such people think solely in pictures and emotions, and have to 'translate' what they're thinking into words. This is not an indicator of intelligence, by any means, simply how some people think. Since they are constantly thinking thus, it is far easier for them to maintain a constant 'chaotic mindset,' as you put it. The majority of people, though, think not only in pictures and emotions, but words, as well, so _layering_ ones' thoughts and memories is the better solution."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Harry replied, noting the professor's answer.

"To continue with your lesson, I understand you are familiar with meditation?"

Harry nodded, "A bit, yeah. I learned about it a couple of years ago when I had to do a report on eastern religions, and found it useful to… pass time." Harry, though he got along with Snape a far sight better than Sirius or even Remus did, wasn't about to go into the abuse he suffered at the Dursleys'.

"Somehow, I cannot imagine you using meditation simply to 'pass time.'"

Harry shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You were saying about meditation?"

"Yes, yes. Meditation is a similar mental discipline which can be used in conjunction with occlumency to great effect. Meditative trance is usually the easiest way to sift through your memories and thoughts in order to organize them effectively."

Harry smiled a little, "And here I thought it was simply an easy way to memorize all those dates from history class."

"Meditative trances to enhance memory are useful, though most wizards prefer to use a memory-enhancing potion or spell to achieve similar results. As could be inferred from my earlier comment about mental organization, most wizards simply do not have the patience to learn mental discipline of any sort."

Harry decided not to mention anything about the concentration-enhancing charm Hermione had taught him. Instead, he pointed out, "Remus mentioned something about having a mental image protect your thoughts. What was he talking about?"

"That is one of the most advanced levels of occlumency – with work, you should reach that level. The image – usually several different ones – are layered on top of and throughout the sediment of your thoughts and memories, with a master image housing it all."

Harry's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I don't think I quite understand what you're trying to say, sir."

"Working from the legilimens' point of view, using myself as an example, the first thing that he or she would see upon trying to enter my mind is an exact replica of my personal potions' laboratory. Housed within this image, though, are several smaller images, protected within the whole. You have seen, I assume, the paintings that on first glance appear to be one thing, like a vase, but upon closer inspection, may reveal two faces?" Harry nodded. "It's similar to that. The legilimens, in searching for information, would then look to the obvious places in which my memories and thoughts would be stored. Care to hazard a guess?"

Harry thought for a moment, "I think I understand… The legilimens would probably start with the desk or bookstand, thinking that the most useful information would be there, but you've _layered_ your memories in something else… The ingredient shelves, perhaps? Or maybe in cauldrons."

"Good guess, and a logical, though inaccurate, conclusion. No doubt most legilimens would indeed look to those four areas first, and I do layer memories in those images, but only those which I wish to be seen. Other images within the greater image of the lab are layered with the memories I don't wish seen. For example, scenes from my time at Hogwarts are layered into the walls, and my personal thoughts about particular things in my life may be layered either in the countertops or even something completely random, such as a pen on the desk or within an inkwell."

Nodding, Harry smiled a little in understanding. "All right, I think I understand now. You use a complex image to represent the mind as a whole, and each thing in that image can be layered with thoughts and memories. I suppose if one were to legilimize you and actually inspected, let's say an ingredient jar, not only would they get the surface thoughts you _want_ them to see, but underneath it would no doubt be an image of the ingredient, itself. Behind that image, more memories or thoughts of a slightly more sensitive nature. Right?"

Professor Snape nodded. This was yet another example of why, despite the bets flying about the Order to the contrary, he actually quite liked working with Potter; he actually _thought_, rather than merely _reacted_. He would be the first to admit that he'd had his moments trying to force the boy into the same mold as James Potter, but those were primarily when he first started working with the boy. Since he'd gotten to know him over the months of potions lessons, he'd found that the only thing Harry had in common with his father was his physical appearance, and even that was superficial at best. The way he held himself, his gestures, his manner – that was all uniquely _Harry_. "Precisely. You, however, will need to select a relatively simple image to begin with, once you've organized your mind, and build outward from there. The first image I began to work with was an empty flask. From that, the entire lab was built."

"Start small – check. 'Rome wasn't built in a day' and all that… Just out of curiosity, sir, how long did it take you to build up your occlumency skill to the point it is now?"

Severus thought back to when he learned. "I had lessons in the basics from the time I started showing magic, at my mother's insistence. I think I was five or six… But I wasn't actively tutored in the art until much later. If you're asking how long I believe it will take you to build such protections, I would estimate roughly four to six weeks, depending on how much practice you give it, and how often my schedule permits me to instruct you."

"Thanks, sir."

"Now, to begin today's lesson, I want you to enter a meditative trance. Don't go into your thoughts or memories at this time, merely clear your mind. I want you to have a feel for what it's like to have someone else in your mind. You may remove me from your mind however you see fit, be that mentally or with your wand."

Harry sat his notebook to the side, "Should I stand or sit?"

"It is up to you."

"Hmm…" Harry replied, getting to his feet. "If this is going to be as difficult as I think, I ought to stand. Maybe move some of the furniture out of the way." He pulled out his wand and spelled the furniture to move itself to the walls. He took a deep breath and met his professor's gaze. "Whenever you're ready, sir."

"Indeed."

* * *

**A/N2:** Sorry if it seemed as though I were rushing things in this chappie, but… I didn't really see the need to go into excruciating detail on his studies, which is primarily what was going on during this time. I also apologize if it's information-overload. Imagine what it was like for _me_! I had to listen to the muse babble on incoherently for simply _ages_ before I could filter it into a quasi-readable format! In any case, I'm sorry for the lack of Chad in this chapter, as well as not going into detail on some things, like Harry's visit with Ron and Hermione, but nothing important happened there. As to Chad, well… he and Moody are still working on things. When something happens in that quadrant, I'll let you know. Also, for those of you who are chomping at the bit for some Voldie action, don't despair! It's in the next chapter. I promise. I'm also planning on dealing with Amelia in the next chapter, too, and yes, the two events are related, but I'm not planning on killing her off. I may need her later.

OH! Before I forget, to everyone who hopes I'm not going to let Ginny sit and rot, I _do_ have plans for her. I swear! She _will_ eventually show up in person in this story. I think I ought to warn you now, though, (snicker… now that you're twenty-whatever chapters into it and can't back out) this is going to be a _very long story_. I have notes for things to happen well into Harry's thirties. This story isn't just about Harry and the Dark Lord; it's about Harry's _life_ – hence the addition of a love-interest, even though this isn't a romance. I have it as 'general' for a reason, it really covers too many specific genres to be considered just a 'romance' or just an 'action/adventure' or even an 'angst/drama' or 'comedy/horror.'

I love all my reviews and all my reviewers. Thanks, everyone, for your continued support of the fic.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer:** I don't think I magically turned into JKR in the last couple of days... Yep, still not her, therefore anything recognizable isn't mine.

**A/N:** Yes, I really did research the information on hummingbirds in the previous chapter; unfortunately, I didn't save what websites I consulted, so I can't properly cite them – sorry!

FINALLY got to a library to upload this - it's been taking up space on my IPod for the better part of a week now.

In this – I want to call it an 'episode' – chapter, we will see many things, including more of Harry and Amelia, more of Chad and Moody, a little more about BKE, and Harry meets up with Voldemort for the first time. Those of you hankerin' for a little more action should be pleased with this chapter. _grin_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Nightmares Come to Flesh**

The seasons slowly started to shift as winter imperceptibly gave way to spring. Harry was happier with the warming weather – he'd never been all that fond of winter – and on days that were barely above freezing was often seen out in the back yard, painting. He needed to finish up several projects for his 2D art class, as well as figure out what he wanted to do for his final project. There were only two months of classes left, after all, and his art instructor wanted the themes for their final projects no later than mid-April.

On Saturday, April 4, Harry was staring intently at a perfectly blank canvas. The canvas was oval, about two and a half feet wide and three feet or so long. It was supposed to be covered by Monday morning with something that would qualify as 'surreal.' Harry didn't care for surrealism, cubism, or any of that, he much preferred realism in his artwork. He sighed and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, remembered images from his dreams surfaced. Try as he might, he wasn't able to get the images to go away…

_Damnit! I _knew_ this was going to happen!_ He almost threw the canvas across the muddy yard, but was able to restrain himself… barely. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine… Maybe the dreams will slow down a bit if I paint something… Thought occlumency was supposed to be _helping_ with that…" he muttered to himself as he readied his pallet with several globs of paint.

Over the next two hours, he laid down layer upon layer of black, red, and green. When he finished, the background he'd created was suitably creepy enough to have come from his visions. He smirked a little when he realized that though the assignment was to paint something surreal – and when he was done, the teacher would think he'd stuck to the assignment – but he was really painting an image directly from his dreams, as _realistically_ as he could.

The canvas would need to dry before he added the next layer of paint, so he set to cleaning up his brushes, pallet, and taking everything back inside. "You're nuts. It's bloody _cold_ out there," Jenn commented when he pulled off his jacket and hung it on a peg behind the back door.

"So you keep telling me." Harry grinned at her. "What's for dinner?"

Jenn shrugged, "No clue. Allen said he was bringing something home. I just hope it isn't pizza again."

"Nothing wrong with pizza."

"Yeah, but we've had it three times in the last two weeks. I could stand something different, for a change." Jenn suddenly snapped her fingers, "That's it!"

"What?" Harry asked while she hurried from the kitchen to the den. _Whatever it is, it must have been important… Wonder who she's working for this week?_ Harry chuckled, knowing that inspiration could come from the strangest places, and sat his supplies down on the counter before making his way to his room. He noticed that he'd missed two calls while outside, and checked his voicemail.

"Hi, Harry. This is Amelia. Was wondering if you're busy tonight? My friend, Lila, told me about this new club opening up this evening, and I wanted to know if maybe you wanted to check it out with us. Call me!"

"Hey, boss. Nigel here. Since Arthur made his decision on what floor to work in, I've taken the liberty of getting a magical contractor for us. Don't worry – he's completely on the up-and-up, re-did the wards for the American Auror Central Training Facility about ten years ago – in case you didn't know, it's the sixth side to the Pentagon in D.C. Anyway, he wants to meet with you to discuss your plans for BKE later today, preferably after five. Call me when you get this."

Harry sighed once more. _Decisions, decisions… Do I go to the meeting, out with Amelia, or try to do both? No contest. Amelia's nice and all, but we went out for dinner last night, and agreed to do so again on Tuesday. She'll understand if I say I had to 'work' this evening. _He dialed Nigel's number and waited until the answering machine picked up.

"Nigel Smythwick. You know what to do, and if you don't then you shouldn't be using a phone in the first place." There was a lengthy pause, followed by a sharp _beep_.

"Nigel, Harry here –"

The line clicked, "Hey, Harry. You got my message?"

"Yeah. Screening calls?"

"Mmhmm. That realtor woman won't leave me alone."

Harry snickered, "That's what you get for flirting with someone who probably had never had anyone pay attention to her before."

"I suppose. About that meeting, though. You free tonight? If not, the next time we can meet with him will be in July."

Harry coughed, "Busy, isn't he?"

"I would imagine so."

"Yeah, I'm free tonight. When and where?"

"Six-thirty good for you? At O'Malley's Pub."

"I'll be there."

"See you then." Nigel hung up. Harry clicked his phone off and checked the clock. It was a quarter to five. He dialed Amelia, who picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Amelia?"

"Yeah. Harry?"

"Yeah. Sorry, but I just got your message. I can't tonight. I have to work."

"Oh, that's too bad." She sounded disappointed. "Maybe next time, yeah?"

"Yeah. See you on Tuesday, right?"

"For sure."

"I've got to go, I've only got an hour or so before I need to leave. Talk to you later?"

"Yeah. See ya, Harry."

Harry disconnected the call and perused his closet for something appropriate for his meeting that evening. Once he was showered and spruced up, he grabbed the notebook in which he'd started keeping his ideas for BKE, and headed down to the kitchen. He left a note on the dry-erase board on the refrigerator, grabbed his keys, and headed out to Viridian. He paused by Sirius' long enough to grab his co-founder and called up Arthur on the floo while he was there. Arthur, Fred, and George joined them in the living room. Harry looked from the assembly out the window to his truck and back. "I think we've a small problem."

"And that is?" Arthur asked.

"My truck only seats three, and that's if the one riding in the middle doesn't mind having the gearshift in their lap."

Arthur chuckled, pulling out his wand. He turned to Sirius, "Anything in that garage of yours?"

"Just some empty boxes… I still haven't had the chance to get a hold of Hagrid to find out just what he did with my motorcycle."

"Go open the door for Harry, then. Harry, you pull your truck on in, and make sure the door gets closed. Fred, George, you know that grey box with the rusty latches on the top shelf of my work shed?" They nodded. "Run home and get it for me, would you?" The twins disappeared with simultaneous _pops_.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, his tone showing both curiosity and hesitation.

"Just a couple of simple charms, Harry," Arthur smiled.

Harry could see an almost manic gleam in Arthur's eyes. It was somewhat frightening, but oddly reassuring, too. _I know he's really into this combining technology and magic… I didn't realize, though, just how _obsessed_ he really is with muggle stuff…_ Harry hurried out to the truck and waited while Sirius opened the garage door. He pulled the truck in, and Sirius closed the door behind him. "Where's the light-switch?" Harry asked, the garage was completely dark. He couldn't even see his hand in front of his face.

"Don't know." There was the sound of rustling fabric and a muttered 'lumos.' Blue-white light spilled from Sirius' wand. "Ah, there it is." He pointed to the switch next to the door into the house. At just that moment, Arthur opened the kitchen door and flicked the switch with the ease of someone who had done so all his life. "Nox." Sirius put away his wand. "Didn't know you knew where my light was, Arthur."

"Common sense," Arthur replied. At the incredulous looks on both Sirius' and Harry's faces, he elaborated, "I spent the summer between my sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts living in muggle London. Had a blast, and learned quite a bit about muggle life. Ended up with the top score in Muggle Studies because of that summer."

"I'd imagine so," Harry replied. He heard faint _pops_ as the twins apparated back into Sirius' living room.

"We're in here, boys!" Arthur called out. A couple of seconds later, the two twenty year-olds arrived, carrying a very large grey metal box between them.

"Here you go, Dad." The one on the left said as they sat it down.

The other opened it up, "Are you going to do to the truck what you did to the Anglia?"

Arthur shook his head, "No, not just yet. We just need to resize the inside for now. While I'm working on that, why don't you tell Harry about the family car?" Arthur reached into the box and pulled out a tape measure and a pencil. He opened the driver's side door and started measuring things, seemingly at random, using the pencil to write down the measurements directly on the item measured. Harry noticed that unlike a normal pencil, this one wrote in glowing green lines, and that Arthur was adding a string of runes to the end of each measurement's number.

"What about an Anglia?" Harry asked, turning to the nearest twin.

"Oh, it's the family car," the one Harry had asked replied.

The other grinned, "Though Dad did some work on it. It can fly…"

"…Run invisibly…"

"…Carry about twelve people comfortably…"

"…_And_ their luggage…"

"…Never needs petrol…"

"…The tires don't go flat…"

"…The windows never fog up or ice over…"

"…It's always a comfortable twenty-three degrees inside…"

"Whoa," Sirius interrupted the twins. "I think we get the idea."

Harry shook his head, as though dislodging water from his ear. "Your dad can really charm a car to do all that?"

The twins nodded, "Sure."

Arthur, who was still measuring things inside the cab of the truck, spoke up, "It's not as easy as they're making it sound, Harry. It took me a good five years to figure out how to get it to run on magic. Resizing the inside, though, should only take another ten minutes or so."

Harry checked his watch. "Good. That should give us just enough time to get to O'Malley's Pub. Told Nigel we'd be there at six-thirty, and it's just now coming up on six."

Arthur, tucking the pencil behind his ear, emerged from the truck. "All right, now I can cast the charms to expand the inside." He leveled his wand at Viridian and began incanting a long string of Latin. Harry snickered when he realized that it translated to 'You are bigger than you appear, and you're going to stay that way, whether you like it or not.'

* * *

Chad was staring down at a yellow legal pad, crammed with notes and suppositions. He refilled his coffee cup for what had to have been the five-hundred and ninetieth time since he'd last slept – three days prior. Moody was snoring on the sofa in the run-down living room just up the hall. Chad felt as though his brain were melting; so much information had been crammed into it in the past few weeks that he didn't know how it all fit. He flipped through the legal pad and realized that it was completely filled with notes. He sighed and retrieved another from his briefcase. He sat clicking his pen in caffeinated agitation. _When bouncing around the obvious leads an investigation nowhere, what, then, should the investigator do?_ The phantom voice of his criminal psychology professor from college rang in his head. He remembered answering the question, clearly confident of his answer, _In that instance, the investigator should look to the improbable, unlikely, and possibly even the impossible in order to solve the case. After all, a hundred years ago people wouldn't have thought it possible to level an entire city with a single bomb, yet we accomplished it at Hiroshima. What's impossible is merely a matter of perspective; or, to be more accurate, something is only impossible so long as there isn't anyone stubborn enough to try it until they get it right._

He scrawled large blocky letters across the first page of the legal pad, going over them several times to make them dark. He then pinned them to the wall he'd been blinking at prior to re-reading his notes. The note simply read: ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

With the fresh legal pad in hand, he turned his considerable knowledge of psychology back to what he did best – figuring out how the bad guys thought. About four hours later, Moody clumped his way back into the kitchen and refilled the battered percolator with fresh water and coffee grounds before using his wand to boil it. Pouring a cup of the bitter beverage, he turned to face Chad. "Getting anywhere?"

Chad blearily looked up from his notes and shook a cramp out of his wrist. The new tablet was mostly full already. "I think so, but to tell the truth and shame the devil, I'm so damned tired right now, I could have just spent the last four hours sketching the playmate of the month and not realized it."

Moody, not altogether unfamiliar with the muggle world – and, in truth, had a copy of the Playboy issue in which Marilyn Monroe was featured – laughed heartily and took the notebook from Chad. He snorted at the question adorning the top line of the first page.

_If I were an evil megalomaniac with unlimited magical power, what would I do if…?_

The next line was clear, and the question below it read, _I needed a body – my own – in order to 'return to life?'_

Moody sat across from Chad and began reading in earnest.

_Firstly, I'd need someone I trusted – implicitly – to do my fetching and carrying. They'd need to be pretty powerful themselves, as I wouldn't want to have to deal with a weakling. They're supposed to be protecting me until such time as I can protect myself. Who are my most loyal supporters?_

_Lucius Malfoy – age 49, location Wiltshire. Currently embroiled in playing shadow politician. Claimed mind-control so as not to go to prison. –Wouldn't be my first choice. People who delve into politics change their stances too much to be completely trustworthy._

_Rodolphus Lestrange – age 42, location Azkaban. Currently in prison. 'Nuff said._

_Rabastan Lestrange – age 43, location Azkaban. See Rodolphus._

_Bellatrix Lestrange – age 43, location last known as Azkaban - I'm beginning to sense a pattern here - currently not available... Unless... Maybe I've already gotten her support... Would support Harry's dreams and vice-versa._

_Who is trustworthy that's not in prison? Igor Karkaroff? No… He turned on his fellows to keep from going to prison. Who else? Walden MacNair? Not powerful enough with anything but an axe, if rumors are to be believed. Crabbe? Goyle? Same issue with MacNair. If I truly need someone both powerful and trustworthy, it looks as though I'd need to visit Azkaban._

_Would I visit Azkaban? Possibly. If the creatures that guard the place don't affect a non-corporeal entity such as myself? (No information in any of the notes, ask Moody.) Assuming that they don't, I would likely see if I could get there and perhaps work to free one of my followers…_

Moody read through page after page of Chad's cramped handwriting, and when he reached the end, he realized two things about the profiler. The first was that he was highly skilled in what he did, and had he been a wizard, would have made a damn fine auror. The second was that said profiler was soundly asleep and drooling on his kitchen table. Hovering Chad to the sofa he, himself, had so recently vacated, he thought back over Chad's notes. _When the impossible has been eliminated, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,_ a line from a muggle book he'd read as a boy that had stuck with him throughout the intervening years slipped into his mind. It had been a mantra of sorts which had gotten him through more than one investigation over the years.

Once Chad was safely deposited on the sofa, he sat down at the table, re-reading parts of the notebook. When he'd heard that Harry Potter had been having visions regarding Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, he had brushed them off as the delusions of a teenager suddenly thrust into a situation wherein he was eventually going to be hunted down, likely killed. Even though he was retired, he was still a high-ranking auror, second only to Madam Bones in the MLE Auror Division, and he'd ordered Tonks and Shacklebolt not to pursue what he was sure was a dead-end. Now, though, he wondered if maybe he hadn't been a little hasty in that decision. _It wouldn't hurt to check, in any case,_ he thought, setting the tablet down. He quickly quaffed the last of his coffee, grabbed his cloak from the peg behind the back door, and portkeyed to the Ministry.

* * *

On Tuesday afternoon, Harry hurriedly finished up the last of his homework before getting ready for his date that evening with Amelia. They were going to go to an early movie and then out to dinner. Once showered and dressed, he drove over to Amelia's house and waited at the front door. He was a little surprised that none of Amelia's family seemed to be home. Amelia answered the door looking rather nice. She had a strange expression on her face, though. Harry ignored it and smiled a greeting. "You look nice. Parents not home tonight?"

Amelia shook her head, "No, they decided to take my sister out for dinner."

Harry could hear something off in Amelia's voice, but couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. "Well, shall we, then?"

"Why not?" Amelia strode over to Harry's truck and climbed in. Harry was grateful that the charms Arthur had placed on Viridian were such that the inside only expanded when there was a real need for the extra space. It would have been hard to explain to Amelia why the truck was so much more roomy otherwise.

Following Amelia into the vehicle, Harry started the motor and paused, turning to face Amelia. "Have I done something wrong?"

Amelia, who had yet to smile in Harry's presence that evening crossed her arms over her blue t-shirt. "I don't know. Have you?"

Harry figured that was girl-speak for 'Yes, you have, but I'm not going to tell you what.' "Are you angry at me for something?"

Amelia's gaze narrowed, "Should I be?"

Harry resisted the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel, _Why can't girls speak English like the rest of us?_ Instead of placing his foot in his mouth, he simply turned the engine off. "What did I do?"

Fire flashed in Amelia's eyes. "What did you do?" she coldly repeated. "You _lied_ to me, that's what you did!"

Harry blinked in confusion. "At the risk of sounding like a complete idiot, exactly _how_ did I lie to you?"

"If you didn't want to go out with me Saturday, you should have just said so! I know you've got other bloody friends! You didn't have to lie and say you had to work, when, since I bloody _saw_ you at the pub, you obviously didn't!" Amelia wasn't yet shouting, but Harry knew it was going to go that way unless he could somehow figure out exactly the right thing with which to reply.

Harry held his hands up, whether to show surrender to her argument or to somehow subliminally ask her to back down he didn't know. "Hold up a tic, Amelia. I _didn't _lie to you. That really was work-related."

Amelia glared, "Just how is sitting in a pub with a bunch of other guys drinking beer 'work-related?'"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His basic sense of honesty wouldn't let him lie to her, not even to keep her as his girlfriend – _Though really, can she be considered my girlfriend if we've yet to do more than hold hands?_ "I can't tell you that, Amelia, but it was work-related."

"Don't you trust me?"

"It's not that; because I do trust you. It's just that I really can't talk about it."

Amelia huffed and reached for the door handle. "If that's how you're going to be, I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Harry reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Come on, Amelia, don't be like that."

"Like _what_? I'm sorry, but if you can't trust me with what's going on in your life, how do I know I can trust you with mine?"

Harry sighed again and hung his head, "Maybe you're right. I'm sorry, but I honestly _can't _tell you."

Amelia pulled the handle and pushed the door open. "I'm sorry, too, Harry. It's been fun, but…"

Harry sighed for a third time in as many minutes. "I know." He started the truck and after the passenger door slammed shut, he backed slowly out of the drive and meandered aimlessly for several hours. Eventually, he found himself outside Tim Marshfield's apartment building without knowing quite how he got there. He got out of the truck and headed towards the building. He pressed the buzzer for 14B, "Tim, you home? It's Harry."

After a moment or two, the intercom buzzed into life, "Yeah, Harry. Come on up." There was a clicking noise from the security door, and Harry let himself in.

Tim let him in at the apartment door, and without any words on Harry's part, handed him a beer from the icebox. "She broke up with you, didn't she?" Harry nodded. "That's rough, lil' bro. Still… This just means you're free to go out looking again, innit?"

Harry chuckled a little humorlessly. "I suppose. How do you and Nigel do this all the time?"

"Do what?"

"The dating thing."

Tim laughed, "Oh, lil' bro, it gets easier with practice. Kinda like refinishin' a paint job. The first few are always a lil' rough-lookin', but by your fifth or sixth, you got it down pat."

This time Harry's laugh was genuinely amused, "Don't you know any analogies that _aren't_ related to work?"

Tim grinned and shrugged, "Sure. But they're all model-related, so I guess it balances out in the end."

Harry finished his beer before realizing that he'd driven most of his evening hours away. He sat the bottle on the counter and finished up his discussion with Tim about his odd observations of girls over the next hour-and-a-half. Tim informed him that he was ahead of where he'd been as a teenager simply with the realization that girls thought differently than they did. Still chuckling a little, Harry bade Tim a good night and apparated home, not being the type to even risk driving after as little as a single beer. Luckily, no one was up waiting, and so he could leave uncomfortable questions for the next day.

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open. He blearily groped for his glasses and put them on. It was only three in the morning. He groaned. _At least it wasn't a bloody vision that woke me this time,_ he thought, reaching for his wand. He'd found that using his wand for a lumos to go down the hall to the bathroom was less likely to wake the house when he woke in the middle of the night. He wasn't sure why he'd woken so abruptly, but a glass of water did sound good just then.

He stepped quietly into the hall after putting his slippers and house coat on over his pajamas. He barely got three steps into the hall before he felt someone grab his wrist from behind and place a hand over his mouth. He was about to try to wrench out of what he thought to be Remus' grasp – ever since being reunited with Sirius, he'd been participating in more pranks of late – when a disturbing hook-like sensation grabbed his bellybutton and the dark hall of the Kellerman house spun away in a haze of magic.

Harry wasn't given much time to ponder his surroundings when he finally felt his feet slam into the ground. He did, however, have enough time to be momentarily grateful that it was now, technically, the sixth of April, and as such there wasn't any snow remaining, though it was still rather chilly.

Mere milliseconds after his hard landing, the hand at his wrist deftly plucked his wand out of his hand and laughed shrilly. The person's other hand was still over his mouth. Even lacking any sort of caffeine, Harry had been sufficiently awakened by the sheer amount of adrenaline now present in his bloodstream. He worked his jaw open under the slim hand and bit down, hard, right on that fleshy pad just under the thumb. His captor dropped their grip on him, shrieking, and Harry spun around to see the dark-haired woman from his visions.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry stated flatly.

The woman sneered mockingly at him, "Oooh, the widdlest Potter's been learning of the big, bad, magical world, has him?"

Harry grit his teeth against the grating noise of Bellatrix's baby-talk. "Give me back my wand."

She stepped back a pace, and Harry saw she had another wand in her hand now, "I don't tink so, widdle Potter." Why she persisted in the baby-talk, Harry had no idea, but he really wished she'd stop.

Harry made a lunge for the wand she held, not caring in the least that it might not be suitable to his own magic. Bellatrix laughed and sidestepped him easily. "Ah-ah-ah," she said, wagging the finger of her injured hand scornfully, "Wands is for grown-ups, yes them is!" She shrieked her maniacal laugh once more.

"That's quite enough, Bella," a new voice said from somewhere nearby. This voice was male, low and rumbling. "Our Lord wishes him in one piece. He's promised you your fun after he has his."

In the faint starlight, Harry could see Bellatrix pout. "You're no fun, Barty."

The man to whom she was speaking stepped out of the shadows among a clump of trees. "On the contrary, dear Bella, I can be _quite_ fun, when the situation calls for it." Somehow, Barty's voice was more disturbing than Bella's. "It is not called for now, however. Come, Bella. Our Lord shan't be kept waiting." He aimed his wand at Harry. Harry didn't see a hex or spell, nor did he hear an incantation spoken, so he was unaware that he should have ducked or moved out of the wand's line of sight because the next thing he was aware of was snapping into a rigid statuesque figure. Had he been able, he would have winced when his head hit the ground.

His eyes had been frozen in mid-blink, and in the blurry periphery of his vision, he could barely make out a streak of red as it headed for him. All the while, he could hear Bella, sans her baby-talk, saying, "Still showing off that silent petrificus, Barty? What are we, third-years?" It was the last thing he heard before he was dumped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Remus woke slowly, a bit at a time, something he'd done every morning of his life for as long as he could remember. First, there would be the realization that he was no longer dreaming, but thinking. After that, all his body-parts would check in with his brain. On the mornings immediately following a full moon, this usually involved some level of pain or stiffness, days not following the full moon merely let him know that he hadn't been pranked again – that day in second year when he had to be _carried_ to the hospital wing because Peter couldn't remember how to restore his feet has been humiliating enough to spawn a lifelong habit. The only thing out of the ordinary was a stuffy head. _Great… A cold. Just what I never needed._

After determining that he was, indeed, all there and in one piece, the yawns started. It wasn't something he could help – when he was little, his dad had told him he'd done it even as a baby. Great wracking yawns, accompanied by a slow stretch of nearly every muscle he possessed, starting at his toes, and eventually traveling upwards through his arms and hands. For the last ten years or so, he'd also begun feeling his age a bit more than the average wizard, and at least six vertebra and usually an ankle or shoulder would pop noisily as his limbs stretched to restore circulation. It wasn't that thirty-eight was all that old for a wizard, but he had most of a lifetime of lycanthropy behind him, and even a _teenager_ could have joint problems if cartilage and bone had been torn or broken as many times as Remus had suffered.

After the yawns, pops, and stretches, he slowly opened his eyes. After the past several months of living in the Kellermans' spare bedroom, he was no longer surprised to see the cream wallpaper and blue curtains. The first few days, he kept expecting to wake to see the old flat he used to rent – when he had the cash to do so – above a 'bookstore' in Knockturn Alley. Or even the inside of the Shrieking Shack, one of the few places he could stay when he was completely broke.

Now fully awake, he sat up and checked the bedside clock. It was eight. _Hmm… Slept in. Didn't mean to, but hell… Haven't got much to do today until Harry gets home from school. Was probably this damn cold, anyway._ He eventually pulled himself into the bathroom for a shower and found some clean clothes. A side-effect of Sirius' return was that Sirius had returned to doing what he'd done while they were in school – giving Remus a plethora of clothing that he damn well _knew_ Sirius had purchased without ever intending to wear them himself. It was always the same 'Oh, Remus, I picked this up the other day, but I _honestly_ don't know why. Did you want it? It seems more your style than mine,' or some variation thereof, and Sirius would hand Remus a brown jumper or a pair of corduroys or something similarly as far from Sirius' normal tradition of black jeans and t-shirts as possible. Remus sighed and pulled on the aforementioned cords and jumper, thinking that Sirius should just come out and _ask_ him what he wanted when he went to the store. It'd certainly be easier. _Then again, Padfoot probably thinks I don't notice. Hah. I think I figured it out about the third time he gave me a t-shirt back in first year._ Remus couldn't really complain, though. He knew he'd put up with Sirius' strange need to take care of him and a whole lot more. At times, he had to remind himself that Sirius wasn't in Azkaban any longer.

Finished dressing, he grabbed a book on advanced dueling theory and headed to the kitchen. He had the day off, Allen's shop wasn't particularly busy, and Allen – succumbing to the inevitable of eventually losing half his employees to BKE – had wanted to take the time to interview some applicants for Nigel's position. Nigel had agreed to stay on until they'd made sure his replacement was adequate. Pouring himself a cup of tea and helping himself to the basket of scones on the table, Remus settled in for what he had assumed would be a good long hour of reading on the theoretical application of transfiguration in formal dueling. However, halfway through the second paragraph, the phone rang.

Remus got up and answered it, "Kellerman residence. How may I help you?" He cringed inwardly when he realized he was using the same tone of voice – and almost the exact same greeting – he did at the shop.

"This is Kerry Hawthorn," a female voice replied. "Is either Jennifer or Allen Kellerman available?"

Remus checked the dry-erase board on the fridge, Jenn had left a note that she'd be gone most of the day discussing a program with a client. "Sorry, ma'am. May I take a message?"

"That's quite all right," she replied pleasantly. "I was just calling to see if perhaps Harry Potter were sick. He didn't show for his first class this morning."

Remus' throat suddenly constricted. "Harry's not at school?"

"I believe I just stated that," this time her voice was somewhat bemused, sounding like she had to repeat this type of phone call far too often.

"Sorry… It's just not like him not to be at school, unless there's a good reason…" Remus found himself wising the phone was a cordless, so he could go check the driveway to see if Viridian was outside. "If you'd hang on a moment, I'll see if his truck is still here. Maybe he had some car trouble."

"Certainly."

Remus sat the phone on the counter and hurried to the nearest window with a view of the drive. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw that it was empty. Returning to the phone, he picked the receiver back up and said, "Well, that settles it, then. His truck's not in the drive, so he probably had some trouble on the way to school."

"Thank you, mister…?"

"Lupin. Remus Lupin."

"Yes, Mr. Lupin. Thank you for your time."

"No problem," he replied, and then hung up the receiver. _If Harry'd had any problems with the truck, I wonder if he called the shop?_ Remus picked up the phone once more and dialed the shop's number. It was answered on the third ring.

"Kellerman's Service Shop, Allen speaking."

"Hey, Allen, it's Remus. Did Harry call you this morning?"

"No… But I've not been in the office the whole time, let me ask Mike and Tim," there was a beep and hold-music began playing. After a couple of minutes, another beep sounded and Allen was back on the line. "Nope, sorry. Tim said to tell you to tell Harry that he needs to retrieve Viridian from the lot at his apartment before the manager has it towed… Just out of curiosity, though, why were you wondering if Harry'd called?"

An uneasy feeling crept into the back of Remus' mind and sat heavily in his stomach. "The secretary at Stonewall called a couple of minutes ago – Harry didn't show for classes this morning."

"Is he sick?"

"I don't think so… I'll double-check his room, though. Talk to you when I figure this out, okay?"

"Keep me posted."

Remus hung the phone up and sprinted up the stairs three at a time. He threw the door to Harry's room open and saw a messy bed, obviously slept in, but no Harry. A closer look showed that Harry's cell phone was still on the charger on his desk, but his glasses and wand weren't where he kept them on the bedside table. Harry's heavy coat was hanging on the hook on the back of the door, but his slippers and house coat weren't in their normal places. The unease blossomed into full-blown panic. He raced back to the phone and hit redial. This time, the phone was answered in only half a ring. "Remus?"

"Harry's not here, but I don't think he went anywhere… His coat is still on the hook, and his mobile is here, but his glasses and wand are gone."

"I talked to Tim, he said that Harry and Amelia broke up last night. Maybe he just needs a day to himself… God knows, I did the same thing a time or two when I was his age." Allen tried to sound reassuring, but Remus could tell that the man was likely as worried as he was.

"I'm going to run over to Sirius', maybe Harry's hiding out there…" Personally, Remus hoped so, but couldn't let himself believe it. It wasn't like Harry to cut school, even if his godfather pleaded with him, as he had done on numerous occasions.

"And I'll give Jenn a call, see if maybe she's heard from him."

"Good. I'll take Harry's mobile with me, call when you have news."

"Will do."

Once Remus had hung up the phone once more, he sprinted back up to Harry's room and grabbed the cell off the charger, and then dashed full-speed down the street to Sirius' house. He knocked loudly before flying through the door. "Sirius!"

"In the garage!" Sirius' muted shout replied.

Remus rushed through the house and into the attached garage. Sirius was tinkering with his motorcycle – he'd spent the previous Sunday first talking to Hagrid and then retrieving it from a storage unit in Manchester. "What's wrong?" Sirius asked, setting a wrench on the motorcycle's seat.

"Have you seen Harry today?"

Sirius shook his head, "No… Thought he had school today… Why? What's wrong, Moony?"

"Harry's school called and said that he'd not shown up for class –"

"What!" Sirius nearly shouted, but held back at the last possible second. "Did you call Allen?"

Remus nodded, "Yeah. He's not heard from Harry, either. Said that Tim mentioned Harry's truck was still over at his place."

"What's it doing there?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask!" Remus snapped.

"Do you think that he's maybe spending the day with that girlfriend of his… whatshername… Andrea?"

"Amelia, and I don't think so. Allen also said that Tim said that they'd broken up last night."

Remus could tell that Sirius was starting to get as frantic as he was. "Did you call him?"

"He doesn't have his phone with him… In fact, I've got it with me right now."

Sirius slumped visibly, he was rapidly running out of ideas. "Maybe he's with Jenn?"

"Maybe, Allen's going to call her and call me back."

Almost as if saying so had caused it to happen, Harry's phone rang. Remus fished it out of his pockets and answered it. "Yeah? … Shite. … No, stay at the shop, you still have those interviews this afternoon. I'll go back to the house. … When? … Okay." He pushed the button to end the call. He met Sirius' inquisitive stare. "He's not with Jenn. Apparently, Jenn called Chad. He and Moody are on their way over – Harry's not with them, either – with information about something else, I didn't ask what."

Sirius sighed and Remus could tell his old friend was resisting changing into his animagus form by sheer force of will. It was a side-effect of having spent so much of his time in Azkaban as a dog, now that he was free, whenever his emotions felt like they were getting too far out of control, he retreated into his form as a coping mechanism. Remus knew the better way to keep Sirius human for the time-being was to give him something useful to do. "Why don't I go back to the Kellermans' and wait for Chad and Moody? You should go floo Arthur and see if maybe he or his sons know where Harry is. Come over when you're done."

Sirius straightened and nodded. Remus patted Sirius' shoulder before ducking out the half-open garage door and heading back to the Kellerman home. He arrived mere moments before Chad's rent-a-car pulled into the driveway. Moody clumsily got out of the passenger door, Chad only a step behind him and carrying a pile of yellow notebooks.

"What's this about Potter missing?" the retired auror asked when Remus showed them both in.

"We don't know if he's missing, we just… can't find him," Remus slumped into the sofa.

Chad cleared his throat. "Well, considering what Moody and me found out, maybe we can help in locating him, if he doesn't turn up?"

Remus looked up at the American profiler and gave a weary smile of thanks. "What did you find out?" he asked, as much to keep his mind off the current situation as for any genuine curiosity he harbored.

Chad merely handed over the top notebook in his stack and Remus forced himself to read through the man's excessively neat printing. About ten minutes later, Sirius popped into existence in the entrance hall. He poked his head into the lounge before entering the room properly. "No luck with the Weasleys, Moony. While I was at it, I flooed Albus, too, thinking maybe Harry'd gone up to Hogwarts to talk to Hermione. No luck there, either." Though his voice was clear and strong, Sirius was obviously quite worried. He sank into the sofa next to Remus, pulling his feet up onto the cushion. He lasted almost five full seconds before melting into the large black dog better known as Padfoot.

"No matter how often I see that," Chad said, trying to lighten the atmosphere, "I can't seem to get used to it."

Moody grunted in acknowledgement. Remus realized that though he'd read the better part of five pages of Chad's notes, he didn't remember a single detail. He sat the notebook on the coffee table and sighed. "Why don't you just tell me what's in that? I can't concentrate."

Chad opened his mouth to start explaining, but was interrupted by a low growl from Padfoot. Though only moments earlier, the dog had been sitting dejectedly on the couch, he was now standing on the cushion. The fur around his neck was standing on edge and he was growling, scenting the air. "What's wrong, Padfoot?" Remus asked. "What do you smell?"

Moody looked sharply at Remus. "Thought you'd know that."

Remus shrugged a little. "Seem to have a cold. Can't smell a thing."

Padfoot jumped off of the sofa and ran out of the lounge. He paused at the doorway long enough to send a doggy glare to the three other occupants as though saying 'Are you coming or not?' Remus, followed closely by Moody and Chad, followed Padfoot out of the parlor and up the staircase. They watched as Sirius sniffed around, his growls getting louder with each breath. When Padfoot snuffled his way to the empty corner of the hall next to Harry's door, the dog blurred and a furious Sirius slammed his fist into the wall hard enough to dent the drywall. "That _bitch_!"

"Who?" Moody asked.

"Bellatrix. She was here, sometime last night. Check for a portkey."

* * *

Harry slowly came to consciousness. His head ached from where it had hit the ground when Crouch petrified him. Other than that, though, he was only a bit chilly and rather stiff. Opening his eyes found him to be in a small room. Though he was tempted to call it a dungeon, mainly due to the lack of windows and the stone floor and walls, the empty wine racks lining the wall beside him told him otherwise. The only door to the room was closed and Harry figured it was probably locked, too. A quick check of his person revealed that he still wore his slippers, pajamas, and house coat, and, oddly enough, his glasses, but he no longer had his wand. The wine cellar was very dim, though not completely dark. Light filtered in from the two-inch crack under the door.

Harry slowly got to his feet and stumbled over to it. Most of his stiffness was because of sleeping on the stone floor, and the rest was likely because it was very cold in the cellar. He knelt down and peered through the crack. Beyond the door was an empty room with an identical stone floor, though the walls were aging wood. A couple of sconces on the wall held stubby candles – the source of the weak light. Harry sat up and sighed.

Though he'd thought he had understood the circumstances of having an evil wizard with a plethora of minions out for his blood, he had never truly appreciated the danger he had been in. He took a moment to thank whatever deity might be listening that so far, he was relatively unscathed. _I need to figure out how to get out of here,_ he thought. He stood again and half-heartedly tried the door. It didn't budge. _Like I expected any differently._ Standing at the door, Harry took a closer look around the room. It was bigger than he'd assumed. There were several isles of racks designed to hold wine bottles and he could sense a larger area just out of sight, beyond the reach of the faint light. The racks all appeared to be empty, though Harry couldn't be absolutely certain. _I need more light. _Suddenly, Harry remembered what Professor Snape had told him during his occlumency lessons, '…_a wandless charm like lumos or wingardium leviosa. Those merely require force of will and an adequate supply of magical power; nearly anyone higher in power than a squib could learn to cast wandlessly if they so desired._'

Having never researched wandless magic, though he was interested in it – he simply hadn't had the time – Harry had no idea what the proper way to learn such a skill would be. He did recall, however, how Remus had taught him to cast a wanded lumos. So, he purposefully sat in the middle of the first isle where he'd woken up and began breathing, entering into a meditative trance. He fell inward and saw his magic. It was no less beautiful than the first time he had seen it. The rainbow of threads, ropes, and cables of power seemed to pulse, something Harry'd not noticed the first time through. He located the thread that felt like light and, much as he had several months earlier, guided it through his arm. He felt his hand tingle, and pictured himself holding a ball of the blue-white light that he normally saw at the end of his wand. He opened his eyes and very nearly cried in relief. _Well… that worked._ He was, indeed, holding a small ball of blue-white light.

After a couple of minutes experimenting, he found that he could direct the ball of energy to go where he wanted. Satisfied with himself so far, he got to his feet and began exploring the wine cellar. He didn't find much besides cobwebs and dust, but he did manage to locate an old, moth-eaten, colorless blanket under one of the wine racks. The large, empty-feeling area had three barrel-stands, one of which still held its barrel. The other two barrels had long since been destroyed, barrel-boards and iron bands littered the space. When he tried the valve of the remaining barrel, a vinegary-smelling reddish liquid poured out and onto the floor. _Somehow, I don't think that's drinkable anymore._

As he made his way back towards the door, he noticed that the last wine rack wasn't totally empty. There was one bottle on the bottom-most shelf, nearest the wall. He pulled it out and saw that the label, old and yellowed, wasn't in English. It wasn't a language Harry recognized, the letters seemed to be a combination of Greek and Latin, with some really strange ones thrown in almost at random. It was about three-quarters full of a clear liquid, and it didn't have a cork, nor a twist-cap. Instead it had an odd metal clamp holding a stopper of what might have been cork or rubber in place. It looked a lot like the lids to the jars his aunt Petunia kept the flour and sugar in. He unclamped the stopper and sniffed the contents. The sharp smell of alcohol hit his nose. He took a tiny sip. _Ah, vodka. Must be Russian on the label, then._ He re-stoppered the bottle and tucked it under his arm.

He sat the bottle and the blanket on the floor near the door and then took a closer look at the door, itself. It was wooden, but seemed to be in better shape than most of the other wooden things Harry had thus far encountered. Either it had been constructed of better materials, or – and this Harry thought was far more likely – it had been repaired recently, perhaps even replaced. The hinges were on the other side of the door, so he had no hope of getting out that way. It didn't have a key-plate on the inside, either, and the handle was a simple pull-bar, so Harry assumed that the door was kept closed either with magic or by a bar across the other side. Looking closely at where the door met the wall, he was pretty sure it was a bar. A crack between two boards, where one was missing a piece of its corner showed that the stone wall on the other side overlapped the top edge enough that it wouldn't swing outward.

_I need a plan,_ Harry sat on the floor, pulling the old, ratty blanket around himself, _and I need it _yesterday

* * *

It was nearing three o'clock in the afternoon, and though she was more worried than she'd ever been before in her life, Jenn had to suppress a chuckle at the sight of Remus, Sirius, Chad, and Allen all behaving exactly alike – pacing holes in her kitchen. She understood, though, and had she been a pacer, she'd likely have joined them. As it was, however, she watched them while nursing a mug of tea. If she distanced herself from her own worry, it was almost hypnotic. The four men were similar in height and it almost looked as though they were engaged in some sort of strange dance. Remus and Sirius were pacing in opposite directions from the kitchen window to the stove and back again. Chad was doing lengths of the kitchen, along the inner wall, mumbling to himself and reading one of his notebooks while doing so. Allen seemed to have fallen into orbit around the table. It was a wonder that no one had run into anyone else at this point.

The entire room stopped and looked up when Tonks apparated into their midst. "Well, we know that the portkey took him somewhere in Little Hangleton, but that's about all we've got right now. We're organizing a team to sweep the town, see if we can locate his magical signature."

Chad flipped through his notebook, "Little Hangleton, did you say?"

"Yes, why?"

He stopped flipping pages and handed her the notepad. "That's were Voldemort's parents are from."

Tonks looked to be a little surprised at that revelation. "Where did you get this information?" she asked, reading some of what Chad had written down.

"Dumbledore," he replied.

Tonks looked up from the tablet and handed it back to Chad. "I'll be back as soon as I can with news," she said before apparating out.

* * *

Harry had a plan. Sort of. There was still plenty that could go wrong with it, and it would be risky in the extreme, but he hadn't come up with anything better. _I hope this works,_ he thought, bringing his lumos back – it had faded some time ago, when Harry's concentration faltered. He gathered bits of the broken barrels and laid them at an angle to the door before pouring half of the vodka on them. He then thoroughly wetted the blanket and his clothes with the wine-turned-vinegar from the remaining whole barrel. The last thing he did was send an incendio to the wood stacked against the door.

It had taken him ages to get the incendio to work properly, every time he tried to cast it, it had faltered. Finally it had dawned on him that he was trying to cast it through a wand that he didn't have. He meditated and corrected his mistake.

When the spell hit the wood, bluish flames burst into life. Before the alcohol could burn off, Harry hurried to the furthest corner of the cellar and draped the blanket over himself, creating a pocket where he would have air untainted by smoke. He wished he knew that charm Remus had mentioned a few weeks earlier – that one that ensured the caster would have fresh air – _What did he call it again? The bubble-something or other…_

After a relatively short wait, the cellar was filled with thick smoke. _At least it's not cold anymore._ Harry carefully maneuvered with the blanket over him, crawling along the floor like they'd taught him to in primary school. He squinted through the haze of smoke from under a corner of the blanket. He grinned. The door was almost completely gone. He took a couple of deep breaths before standing up and racing through the flaming doorway. He wasn't in contact with the flames long enough to get burned, and his wet clothes made sure that they didn't catch fire, either. The bottle of vodka was in his robe pocket. Harry had no idea what use it would be, but he kept hold of it, in any case. _If I have to, I can always use it to cosh someone on the head…_

Harry carefully climbed the staircase to the main floor of the building. He looked carefully around himself, there didn't appear to be anyone else there. _Either that or they are just too used to being up all night and sleeping all day…_ Harry smiled a little humorlessly at the thought. _I need my wand._

Walking as silently as he could, he started searching the large house for his wand. It was slow going. The light coming through the dusty windows was rapidly failing, so it had to be getting close to six or seven. Harry couldn't remember what time the sun set in April.

He had just determined that his wand wasn't on the main floor of the house when he heard footsteps overhead. _Damnit, Harry get your arse out of here. You can always replace the damn wand._ Picturing his bedroom in Little Whinging, Harry tried to apparate. He didn't get very far. Opening his eyes, he resisted the urge to swear. He was still on the ground floor of the house, a mere six feet from he had been standing moments earlier.

Through the thin haze of smoke that permeated the house, Harry heard loud voices and rapid footsteps again. _Screw this, where's a door?_ Harry wasn't about to let himself be re-captured. _Hopefully, the fire will keep them busy._ He abandoned all pretense of stealth and raced for the nearest door. He flung it open and raced across a broad expanse of what had once been a well-tended garden. He hoped to make it to the line of trees he could see in the rapidly-fading twilight, just down the hill. Halfway there, he felt someone slam into him. He tried to fight back, really, he did, but Barty Crouch was a solid foot taller than he was, not to mention fully grown and had no qualms about fighting dirty. Before long, Harry found himself petrified again.

"Bring him to the graveyard, Crouch. It is time," a voice Harry had only ever heard before in sleep reached his ears.

What felt like years later, but was in reality only a few minutes, the petrificus was removed from Harry. He was now standing, though he couldn't move any more than he could previously. He tugged at the ropes that held him in place and only succeeded in rubbing his wrists raw. There was also a wad of material in his mouth that kept him from talking, not that he had much to say just then anyway. While trying desperately to escape, he caught sight of the name on the tombstone to which he was secured. Tom Riddle.

"It's no use, you know, trying to escape." Crouch said nonchalantly from somewhere behind Harry's left shoulder.

"Quit baiting our… _honored _guest, Crouch."

Looking around, Harry saw that there was a huge cauldron setting directly on a fire only a couple of yards from where he stood, tied to the tombstone. The voice of Voldemort had originated from a bundle of tattered rags mere feet from the cauldron. Bella was hovering between both the cauldron and the bundle of rags. "It is ready, milord." The liquid in the cauldron was glowing, sending up silver sparks. If he weren't tied to a tombstone and in the presence of the man who had murdered his parents, Harry would have said that it was rather pretty.

Bella picked up the bundle of rags and dumped their contents into the cauldron. Harry had a glimpse of something utterly vile and disturbing – something that could have once been a child, but was so twisted by evil it was no longer recognizable as human. He knew better than to hope that something that evil could drown.

Barty stepped into Harry's line of sight and raised his wand. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son."

Having seen one – count it, _one_ – zombie movie in his entire life, Harry yelped around the gag when the grave below him split open. He had been half-expecting to see a rotted corpse come climbing out, so he felt rather foolish when all that emerged from the crack was a thin line of dust, snaking its way out of the hole and through the air to land in the cauldron. The potion hissed and sent sparks flying before settling again, now a putrid blue.

Next, Bellatrix spoke. "Flesh of the servant," she intoned, reaching into a fold of her cloak and retrieving a long, wicked-looking dagger. "Willingly given," her voice was clear and confident, and perhaps a touch prideful. "You will revive your master." With that sentence, she cleanly sliced off her own hand, which landed with a _plop_ in the glowing blue potion. Harry felt more than willing to empty his stomach of every meal he'd ever eaten, and absurdly noted at that moment that Bellatrix was left-handed.

With the addition of Bella's contribution, the potion had turned a burning red. Crouch stepped forward, taking the dagger from her hand. Harry could faintly hear him telling her to take care of it before she bled to death, and Bella's hissed retort that their lord wouldn't let her die like that. Shaking his head, Crouch approached Harry. Harry realized just a moment too late what Crouch intended, and despite his thrashing, was helpless to stop it.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken," Crouch ran the sharp blade through Harry's housecoat and pajama sleeve, the material parting with about as much resistance as water. "You will resurrect your foe." The knife pierced the crook of his elbow. Harry yelped around the gag, but it didn't help. Crouch held a vial so that blood could spill into it. He then carried the vial to the cauldron and poured it inside.

It seemed to Harry that the world had melted in a blinding surge of light from the cauldron. When the light faded from his eyes, though, he found that wasn't the case. A man was crawling out of the cauldron. He seemed impossibly tall and rail-thin, but his voice commanded in a manner which Harry doubted _anyone_ could resist. "Robes, Crouch. My wand, Bella." They scurried to comply; Harry couldn't describe it any other way.

Distracted by the gruesome events to which he had been forced to participate, Harry hadn't noticed the pain emanating from his scar, but when Voldemort turned to face Harry, that pain increased enough that Harry whimpered around the gag. "Ah, Harry Potter. At last we meet, at long last." Voldemort stepped closer to Harry. "You stand on the remains of my late father," he said softly. "A muggle and a fool… very like your dear mother. But, they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child, and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself in death?"

Voldemort laughed, a cold, cruel sound, and began to pace. "You know that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him, but he abandoned her when she told him what she was. He didn't like magic, you see.

"He left her and returned to his muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a muggle orphanage… but I vowed to find him... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name… Tom Riddle…" Harry already knew much of this, of course, from Chad's discussions with Dumbledore, but he couldn't very well say so through the gag in his mouth.

Voldemort was still pacing. Harry thought that he looked as though he were relishing being in a proper body. "Listen to me waxing sentimental about ancient history… But family _is_ at the forefront of my mind. Bella!"

Bella, cradling her injured arm stepped forward and bowed low. "Yes, milord?"

Voldemort smiled. "Come now, my Bella. Give me your arm."

Bella let go of her wounded arm and held out her left. Harry was a little surprised at that, he would have assumed that the Dark Lord was going to heal her injury. He held her hand and with a careless grace pushed her robe up to reveal her forearm. A glowing red image was burned into her skin. Harry recognized it from Remus' descriptions. It was the Dark Mark.

"It is back," Voldemort said softly. "They will all have noticed it, and now we shall see… Now I will know…" He pressed a long white finger to the brand. Harry's scar let out another wave of pain and the brand turned black. Bella showed no sign of any discomfiture. With a satisfied look, Voldemort straightened up. "How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his eyes staring at a point somewhere behind Harry. "How many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

Several minutes passed in silence, and Harry could swear that the night was growing brighter… but that had to be his imagination, didn't it? Without warning, the air was suddenly full of the cracks of apparation and the swishing of cloaks. "Look, Harry," Voldemort hissed, "my true family returns!"

Over the course of the next half an hour or so, Harry listened intently to Voldemort, taking care to memorize what names he revealed, even while his mind was frantically trying to figure out a way out of his current predicament. His whirling mind paused when interrupted by a scream of pain from one of the assembled Death Eaters, and again when Voldemort rewarded Bella's sacrifice by giving her a shining, silver hand. Even with all that was going on around him, the pain in his arm, the pain from his scar, and the strange, glowing brightness of the night, Harry spared a moment to think _I believe that online list is right… All megalomaniacal nutcases seem to suffer from diarrhea of the mouth…_ His moment of surreal humor was short-lived when he heard a most unlikely sentence come from the Dark Lord's lips. "Now untie him, Crouch, and give him back his wand."

Crouch once again approached Harry and pulled the gag out of his mouth. Using the knife he'd used to slice Harry's arm open, he made short work of the ropes binding Harry to the tombstone. There was a moment when Harry considered running for it, but he immediately discarded that notion when the assembled Death Eaters closed ranks. He, Crouch, and Voldemort were in the center of a circle of about thirty of the Dark Lord's followers. Harry knew there was no way he'd be able to get through them. Crouch pressed Harry's wand, retrieved from a pocket, into his hand, before joining the ranks of Death Eaters surrounding them.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked, red eyes glinting in the darkness. Now that Harry was released from the ropes, he looked around and saw that the growing light of the night hadn't been his imagination. The fire he'd started in the basement of the Riddle mansion had spread. Most of the house was totally engulfed in flame. He wondered if perhaps the muggle authorities would show up and save him. He had to stifle an urge to laugh. _What could a muggle fireman do against _this_ crowd?_

Apparently tired of waiting for Harry to respond to his question, Voldemort began speaking again. "We bow to each other, Harry," he said, bending a little, but keeping his gaze locked on Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed. Dumbledore would like you to show your manners. Bow to death, Harry."

Harry smirked a little, and finally addressed the Dark Lord. "You don't know me all that well if you assume I give a _damn_ what Albus Dumbledore thinks of me," he said, mimicking Voldemort's little bow. _That seems to have surprised him…_

"Can it be that the lauded Boy-Who-Lived is not the shining, spotless hope of the wizarding world?" Voldemort looked honestly intrigued. "However did that happen, I wonder? Perhaps the old man is losing his touch."

Harry's smirk grew somewhat, "Perhaps."

Seemingly coming back to himself, Voldemort shook off whatever thoughts had crept into his mind and smiled. "And now, we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand, firing off a curse Harry remembered as being listed as an unforgivable. He quickly jumped out of the way, "That's not standard dueling practice, Tom," he chided, ducking behind Tom Riddle's gravestone.

Whether Voldemort was upset about the use of his given name or not didn't show in his voice, "It was, Harry, until the dueling code was reworked in 1944."

"Oh, the Grindelwald-thing," Harry replied from behind the tombstone.

"Despite your absence from Hogwarts, you _have_ been learning, haven't you?"

"What was your first clue?" Harry suddenly realized that though he was surrounded by Death Eaters and in the presence of the Dark Lord, himself, none of them had raised a wand to him… Barring the earlier petrificus from Crouch, of course. _Wonder what they'd do if I _did_ make a run for it?_

"Come now, Harry, what would everyone think if they knew that not only were you _hiding_, but being rude as well?"

Harry laughed, he couldn't help it. The darkest wizard in an age telling him he was _rude_? Like he was some primary school kid acting up in class? "You're one to talk about rudeness, Tom. What kind of leader curses his own followers?"

"A strong one, Harry. I'm sure even you can understand that a true leader cannot afford to show leniency to a follower who has disobeyed."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Harry peeked around the corner of the tombstone. Voldemort was just standing there, looking mildly amused at the whole situation.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," he said as he began walking closer to the tombstone. The Death Eaters chuckled. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you tire of our duel? Do you want me to finish it now? Come out, Harry, come out and play. Then, it will be quick. It might even be painless; I would not know, of course, having never died."

"Who says _I_ would die?" Harry asked, ducking as low as he could behind the stone before sending a trip jinx to catch the Dark Lord's ankles. He was rewarded with a small stumble from Voldemort, but the man recovered quickly.

"Clever boy," Voldemort hissed, raising his wand. Harry could tell that the Dark Lord had reached the end of his patience with him. Before he could blast the tombstone into dust, Harry stepped aside, his own wand held ready.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Harry ducked under Voldemort's blasting curse and sent back a quick stunner, which was deflected easily. The two of them sent curses and hexes back and forth, colorful light danced around the graveyard. Several of the Death Eaters had been hit with deflected hexes, and openings now graced the ring of spectators. Harry took a deep breath, it was now or never.

Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!" at the same moment that Voldemort cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

The two curses met in midair, and the Death Eaters later would be hard-pressed to say who was more surprised when the wands connected – Potter or their Lord and Master. A golden beam of light now connected both wands, and Harry tightened his grip on a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

While the thread splintered and formed a glowing cage of energy around them, Harry heard frantic voices asking Voldemort what they were to do. Voldemort's reply was that they should do nothing until he said. An unearthly sound filled the air when the last thread of energy finished forming the strange, glowing cage around them. It was beautiful, moving. It sounded like hope, life, and joy. Harry had no idea what it was, but he could feel the music talking to him.

Don't break the connection.

Harry rolled his eyes. _I know. I know I mustn't…_ Harry's wand was practically bucking in his hand now, and he reached out and gripped it with both hands. The thread connecting the two wands now sported beads of power. They looked rather like giant drops of dew on the support filaments of a spider's web, if not for the fact that they seemed to be traveling along the thread, inching ever nearer to Harry's wand.

Harry didn't know precisely why, but he knew that if those dewdrops touched his wand, it would be very bad indeed, so he forced all his concentration to stopping their progress. Slowly, slowly, it seemed to work. The beads halted in their journey across the filament of power and began to reverse their course.

Through the ache of his injured arm, through the pain in his scar, through his bone-deep terror of the situation and his wonder at what was happening, and through the sweat that was dripping into his eyes, Harry could see that Voldemort was scared. It was the single most heartening thing Harry had seen since waking up in that wine cellar only hours before.

The bead nearest Voldemort's wand suddenly made contact. Flashes of muted color erupted around Harry, followed by echoing screams of pain and a dense, smoky hand emerged and immediately disappeared. There were more screams of pain, and Harry suddenly realized that whatever was happening, it was forcing Voldemort's wand to essentially regurgitate the spells last performed with it. Despite this realization, however, Harry was shocked when a person began emerging from the wand. It was the boy he'd seen in his dreams – visions – all those months earlier.

He looked like a hundred other kids Harry had known over his life, with short hair and an unmemorable face. "Hold on, kid," he said, his voice echoing as though from far away.

Harry nodded, unable at that point to do anything else. Ignoring the echoes of the other spells cast from the wand of the Dark Lord, he began looking for the next victim. An old man appeared, looking a little shocked at what he was seeing. "He was a real wizard, then?" he said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did… You fight him, boy."

Another ghostly gray body was already emerging from Voldemort's wand, followed by another and another. Harry wondered if the wand had ever done anything but cause pain and death, and then his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar head of messy hair emerging from the wand. A man stood and looked directly at Harry. Harry understood in that moment just why it was that everyone said he looked just like his father.

"Your mother's coming," he said quietly. "She wants to see you. It will be all right, hold on."

Harry had only a moment to realize that the reason he looked so much like his father was the fact that his parents had only been a mere three years older than he was now when they died before Lily Potter showed up. She hurried to James' side and whispered in Harry's ear, "When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments, but it will give you time to get away. Do not apparate! Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry gasped, fighting hard to keep a hold of his wand with sweaty palms.

James spoke again, "We're very proud of you, son, never forget that."

"Do it now," Lily said. "Run fast, Harry. We love you." She kissed his cheek and Harry would later reflect that it had been warm… nothing at all like the stories he'd heard about ghosts touching the living and leaving an icy chill.

Harry wrenched his wand upwards as hard as he could, shattering the connection between the two wands and ran. He pushed his way past a couple of stunned Death Eaters and sprinted as fast as he could towards the forest.

He didn't look back, though he was dying to know how the grey shades of Voldemort's victims managed to keep the wizard busy. He simply ran until his side ached and his heart pounded in his temples, until his legs felt like lead and he began tripping over things that weren't there.

He didn't know if he was being pursued or not, he didn't stop long enough to find out. After what felt like hours of dodging through trees and jumping over small streams, he finally couldn't take another step forward. He tripped again over a fallen log and laid there, gasping for breath. The moon had finally risen sometime during his flight, and it cast plenty of light for him to see rather clearly in the forest. It had been full about five nights earlier.

In its silvery light, Harry spotted a small, dark opening in the side of an exposed wall of rock. He shakily got to his feet and stumbled over to it. He cast a lumos and inspected the small cave. It wasn't much, but it beat sleeping exposed. He quickly noxed the lumos, just in case, and huddled in the darkest corner of the cramped space. In his exhaustion, it wasn't long before he was soundly asleep.

* * *

**A/N2:** Sorry this one took so long to post, I've had half of it written for a long time, but I kept dallying on getting to the part with Voldie there at the end… I still don't feel that it's true to what I saw in my head, but I re-worked it three times, and this is – by far – the best version.

I'll admit I was rather tempted to leave everyone with a cliffy just after '_He was about to try to wrench out of what he thought to be Remus' grasp – ever since being reunited with Sirius, he'd been participating in more pranks of late – when a disturbing hook-like sensation grabbed his bellybutton and the dark hall of the Kellerman house spun away in a haze of magic_,' but I thought that the readers I have who _know_ where I live might just kill me in my sleep or something. So… No real cliffy this time. Hope it was fun, all the same.

Be it ever so humble, there's no thing like reviews.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer:** Isn't it rather monotonous to keep putting these up? Oh, well. Not mine, never will be.

**A/N:** I've had lots of reviewers point out my 'mistake' in the order in which the shades of Harry's parents emerged from Voldemort's wand during the previous chapter. I'm not going to go into detail on this, but, unlike the thing with Penelope Clearwater in chapter 25, what I wrote in the last chapter was completely _on-purpose_. I know Rowling admitted that it was a mistake when she did it that way, but _not me_. Trust me when I say it will eventually be addressed. Since I'm penning this note prior to actually writing the following chapter, I don't know if it will be addressed in this chapter or not, but I'm leaning towards either the next chapter or even the one after that. I could be wrong, though. After all, I had expected to only have a single chapter with Amelia in it and I ended up with several.

I also had some reviewers ask if the boy from the previous chapter – the first shade to emerge from Voldemort's wand – was Cedric. It wasn't. If you were reading carefully, a couple of chapters ago a muggle teenage couple had meandered into the Dark Lord's stronghold, looking for a place to neck. Bella killed the girl and ol' Moldyshorts killed the boy.

Another repeated question was: Why didn't Harry do the animagus transformation during the final scene of the last chapter? Though Harry knows what his form is, at this juncture in the tale, he has not yet mastered the transformation – his prior experience with his fully transformed form was only momentary and the result of a potion.

And now, without further ado, I present the next installment of 'All at Once,' wherein we find out just how nuts Harry _really_ is, the ingenuity of the Weasley twins, and I resolve the 'cliffy' from last chappie, of course.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Do Not Poke the Dark Lord With Sticks**

Harry blearily opened his eyes to the sound of birdsong. It was much louder than it should have been, had he been home. When he focused on the rock walls around him, the previous day came crashing back. _So much for hoping it was a nightmare,_ he thought, groping for his wand. In the dappled, bright, early morning light streaming through the cave entrance, he grimaced at the state of his clothes. His pajamas were torn and muddy, his slippers were nearly falling apart, and his house coat was not only torn, muddy, and bloodstained, but also sported several scorch-marks where hexes from the duel had come far too close for comfort. He was also sore, physically exhausted, and rather smelly. _I want a bath, breakfast, and to sleep for the next week – preferably in that order._ He sighed and cautiously poked his head out of the cave entrance.

He was in an unidentifiable forest, undoubtably far from home. _Didn't Chad say that Dumbledore mentioned something about the Riddles being from Little Hangleton?_ He thought hard for several minutes, trying to recall precisely where that was. When he finally pulled the information up from the recesses of his memory he groaned aloud. Walking, it would probably take him several days to return to Little Whinging. He wasn't about to try apparating, not after his mum's warning from the night before – not to mention that the last time he tried to do so, he'd only managed a distance of six short feet.

He was about to use his wand to transfigure his clothes into something more appropriate when he suddenly recalled that there were ways to track his magic. It was enough to make him groan again in frustration. He didn't think that the Death Eaters would have had enough time to set up a tracking charm for him the night before, so his lumos wasn't likely to have given away his position, but by now, they were undoubtably searching for him. Following hard on the heels of that thought was the realization that his family – his warped, weird, and completely unlikely family – would be searching for him by now. "To cast or not to cast, that is the question…" he muttered softly.

After weighing his options for several minutes, he decided not to; at least, not yet. "Guess that means I do this the muggle way." He got to his feet and ducked out of the small cave. _I know the sun rises in the east, so that means that north is more-or-less that direction,_ he gestured to punctuate his thoughts, _and so that means that home is somewhere… that way._ He set off through the underbrush, valiantly ignoring his rumbling stomach and the ever-growing thirst at the back of his throat.

* * *

Back at the Kellerman house in Little Whinging, Remus was catching up on some sleep. He'd practically been _forced_ to go to bed at roughly dawn. Sirius was working with the aurors and Jenn and Allen were both sitting on the sitting room sofa, clinging to one another, both literally and figuratively. Mike, Nigel, and Tim were at the shop – none of them were really all that fond of sitting around doing nothing, and there was really nothing they could do to help in the search for Harry. Chad was lending his – albeit limited – support to the aurors.

Though no one had said as much, Jenn knew that every hour that passed without sign of Harry, the chances he was alive and unhurt dropped dramatically. The only piece of good news she'd heard since the day before was that the aurors had located what used to be the Riddle Mansion in Little Hangleton, but it had been burned to the ground. Was, in fact, still smoking when the aurors showed. She thanked God for magic when the aurors said that no one had been inside the house when it burned. There was still hope. Granted, that hope was dwindling, but it was still there, nonetheless.

"He'll be all right, honey," Allen whispered.

"I hope so."

"He's a resourceful kid; he'll be all right."

Jenn wasn't sure if Allen was trying to convince her or himself. "I hope so," she repeated.

Neither jumped when the tall, black auror apparated into the hall. Striding into the sitting room, Kingsley announced, "I have good news and bad news."

Jenn closed her eyes and, though she wasn't particularly religious – indeed, she hadn't been to church since she graduated high school, much to her mother's dismay – sent out a silent prayer that the bad news wasn't what she feared.

"The good news is that we've located the site of a major magical battle; the duel couldn't have been more than twelve hours ago, as we were able to identify the magical signatures involved. The two involved in the duel were You-Know-Who and Harry."

Allen slowly raised his eyes to meet those of the auror with the gold hoop earring. "And the bad news?"

"There's still no sign of Harry, himself." Before he could continue, a silvery animal scurried through the wall, headed straight for Shacklebolt. It stopped at his feet and turned into a rather insubstantial-looking scroll. Shacklebolt picked it up and read it, when he let go of it, the scroll faded away to nothingness.

"Was that a –" Jenn started to ask.

Kingsley nodded, "A duck-billed platypus, yes. It's a message from Tonks. Seems that brother of yours is good for something after all – I admit I had my doubts. He found a trail of footprints heading away from the site of the duel and into a nearby forest. If it is indeed Harry, we should find him soon."

Jenn let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Thank God…"

* * *

Harry was more tired than he thought. The whole series of events the preceding day had worn him rather thin. Not long after setting out from the cave, he was hard-pressed to continue in a straight line. His mind was slightly disconnected from his physical self, still trying to process all that had happened in the last two days. The main thought that kept ringing throughout his head was that Voldemort was _definitely_ more evil than anything else Harry had dealt with in his life. Harry's thoughts kept wondering at that; the fact that someone was more vile than the Dursleys… It was a lot to take in. It was no wonder that, with most of his attention turned inwards, and the rest of it making sure he didn't trip over a fallen log and break his neck, he failed to notice himself falling ill.

Though Harry knew that the knife used to claim his blood the night before had been far from clean, let alone sterile, he hadn't really realized it, nor the implications thereof. In the magical world, there were two types of diseases; the magical variety and the muggle variety. _Most_ muggle diseases didn't affect magical beings, the common cold being just one exception, pneumonia – both viral and bacterial – being another. Magical diseases, on the other hand, affected – nearly without exception – solely magical beings; they also had a much shorter incubation time than muggle illnesses. Therefore, when a magical strain of the staphylococcus bacteria present on the silver dagger Crouch and Bellatrix had used the evening before was introduced to Harry's bloodstream, it was literally only a matter of time – hours, really – before the symptoms started to surface, particularly since Harry was in a state of exhaustion from both the duel and his flight through the woods. Neither his immune system nor his magic were up to the task of fighting very hard.

Harry's first clue that there was something more seriously wrong with him than mere tiredness, hunger, or thirst came when he started having little blips in his vision; times when he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eyes, but when he turned his head to follow the shadow, it wasn't there. Harry had suffered illness before, 'suffer' being the correct term as the last time he'd been ill was when he was thirteen and still living with the Dursleys. Though state-sponsored healthcare was available, the Dursleys adamantly refused to take Harry to see a doctor whenever he became sick, citing the cost of petrol as one of many excuses – not to mention not wanting to be in close proximity to him. Growing up, whenever he was ill, Harry had grown accustomed to relying on himself and being locked up for the duration. During those times, he'd also come to understand his body's reaction to various degrees of fever. What with his mind on other things, he hadn't realized just how ill he was becoming until he saw Dudley Dursley out of the corner of his eye.

It wasn't until he'd whirled around, wand in hand, to hex his cousin that he became conscious of the fact that his cousin wasn't really there. He shakily put his wand away and leaned against a nearby tree. _Great. Just bloody fantastic._ He felt his forehead, it was hot even to his own touch. _Just what I need…_ Harry closed his eyes and wished for a tall glass of ice water.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, but he heard something – some_one_ – approaching through the forest. Even though he was ill, he could tell that the person or persons were following his back-trail. Panicked, he pushed himself off of the tree trunk and hurried on his way as fast as he could go on legs that were rapidly starting to feel more like rubber than limbs.

He didn't manage to get very far.

The world seemed to be floating off somewhere to his left, and a misplaced step caused him to trip rather spectacularly into a sluggishly flowing stream. Crawling, dripping with water, mud, and perspiration, he pulled himself out of the stream and back onto land. He was further delayed in going about his way by a series of violent sneezes to clear the water from his sinuses. When the sneezes had run their course, he went to stand, and tripped on the edge of his house coat.

This time, when he fell, he hit his head on a partially moss-covered stone buried in the forest floor. Dazed, he rolled onto his back and waited for the footsteps to catch up to him, beyond caring at this point if they were Death Eaters.

"Harry?"

The voice, filled with concern, came from somewhere off to his left. His glasses were somewhat askew, so he wasn't quite sure who the blurry-clear figure striding towards him was. When it came a little closer, it appeared to be topped with bright pink. "Tonks?" he asked.

"Merlin, Harry. You look like shite."

Harry smiled weakly. "Thanks. Feel like the same. Take me home?"

"Sure thing, Harry." She helped him to his feet, cast something that Harry didn't pay any attention to, and apparated them out of the forest.

* * *

Harry didn't remember much of what happened over the next few days, other than he felt completely wretched. On the upside, though, the Kellermans definitely didn't make him go to school, further proving that the Dursleys were bastards. There were three days in particular wherein Harry absolutely did _not _want to deal with anything school-related. His fever was causing him to have some… odd hallucinations.

The following Saturday, while he was finishing up the last of his make-up work, Harry was suddenly struck with an idea. It had him laughing so hard it made his ribs hurt. Once the laughter wore off, he hurriedly finished up his work and called Chad.

"Hello?" Chad answered on the third ring.

"Hi, Chad. Harry here, got a question for you."

"Then I might have an answer," Chad replied.

"In your professional opinion, just _how_ unstable is Voldemort?"

There was a short silence while Chad mulled the question over. "Hmm… Personally, I think he's completely deranged, but Moody has told me many times that he can't be that far gone because he's still got control of his magic. Why?"

Harry _giggled_, and then tried to ignore the fact that he actually did so. Clearing his throat, he replied, "Because… I've got an idea."

"The four most-terrifying words in the English language," Harry could tell that Chad was grinning.

"What are you doing tomorrow, say… noonish?"

"I think my schedule miraculously just cleared. Where?"

"Sirius' place. I'm sure he won't mind."

"See you then."

"Bye." Harry ended the call and grabbed his sneakers and a jacket. He paused by the office long enough to tell Jenn he was heading over to Sirius'.

"You're looking better," she said.

"Feeling better, thanks. I'll be back in time for dinner, yeah?"

"With Sirius in tow, no doubt. Homework done?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Have fun and wear a coat."

Harry ran over to his godfather's house. Opening the door, he called out, "Sirius! You home?"

"In the sitting room," Sirius replied.

Harry hurried into the room and asked, "You doing anything tomorrow?"

"Not that I know of. What's up?"

"I have an idea… Can I use your floo?"

"Sure," Sirius replied, highly curious. "What's this idea of yours?"

"You'll find out tomorrow, along with everyone else," Harry grinned at him as he threw a handful of floo powder into the hearth. "The Burrow!"

Seconds later, Molly's head appeared in the fire. "Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?"

"Evening, Mrs. Weasley. Would the twins be home?"

"Yes, they're here. I'll get them for you."

"What's this about, Harry? Why the twins, why not Arthur?" Sirius asked, his curiosity growing by the moment.

"Tomorrow, Sirius," Harry chided. Just then, two identical red-heads appeared.

"Hey, boss…"

"…Mum said you needed us?"

Harry smiled broadly. "How would you two like in on The Prank to End All Pranks?"

Harry couldn't possibly have picked a better way to phrase his question. The twins smiled evilly. "You've been…"

"…talking with Dad…"

"…haven't you?"

Harry nodded, "Guilty as charged. If you want in, come to Sirius' place tomorrow at noon."

"We'll be there," they chorused.

"Harry? _What_ is going on?" Sirius whined.

Harry smirked, "_Tomorrow,_ Sirius." He grabbed another handful of powder, this time contacting Professor Snape. Sirius retreated into the kitchen for the duration of _that_ call.

"Mr. Potter."

"Professor Snape. Would I be able to steal some of your time tomorrow around noon?"

"What would this be concerning?"

"I need to go over what happened last week, and I had an idea that you might be able to help with."

"Indeed. Where did you wish to meet me?"

"I'm having everyone I want to talk with come over to Sirius' house."

Severus scowled. "Indeed," was all he said before terminating the connection.

Harry sighed, _Wonder if they're _ever_ going to get over themselves? Chad and Allen, too, for that matter._

"_Harry_…?" Sirius whined, leveling a pleading look at his godson.

"_Sirius_," Harry mocked. "I said tomorrow! And Jenn's making pork chops and stuffing for dinner, if you're hungry." Momentarily sidetracked by the prospect of one of his favorite dishes, Sirius, as Jenn had predicted, followed Harry back to the Kellermans'. During dinner, Remus realized that there was something odd going on with Harry. The only other time he'd seen Harry wear the particular look he sported throughout the meal was when he was coming up with the idea for Black Kettle Enterprises. _Merlin save us if he's gone and gotten another idea like _that_. One thing's for sure, Moony old boy, the world certainly isn't going to be the same after _he's_ done with it!_

Sunday, April 12 dawned impossibly bright and warmer than it had been since the last breath of summer died the previous fall. Harry awoke to lazily warm sunlight pouring through his leaf-curtain. He took the chance to air out his room while he readied himself for a day that had equal chances of being either a dazzling success or degenerating into another brawl like the one he and Hermione had watched from under the table at the hotel conference room back in January. Once showered and dressed, he meandered to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea; he was too keyed up to eat. It was only about nine-thirty, and the earlier thought of Hermione made him realize that it had been a couple of weeks since he'd written to his Hogwarts friends. He passed the time writing lengthy letters to both of them, telling them some of what had happened to him over the last weeks. He wasn't sure how to tell them about his experience with Voldemort, and so just ended up stating that he'd talk to them about it in person.

Though most people would likely find it strange that Harry and Hermione – and to a slightly lesser extent, Ron – were as close as they were after only a handful of in-person meetings, Harry didn't think so. In his innumerable hours reading whilst locked in his cupboard – reading anything he could safely smuggle around in Dudley's cast-offs, which, if he were honest, could hide anything less than a complete set of the Encyclopedia Britannica – he'd read about the Celtic concept of anam cara, a group of souls that went through lives as people important to one another. He had adopted this concept into his personal philosophy and believed that Hermione, Ron, Allen, Jenn, Remus, Sirius, and Nigel were all parts of his anam cara group. He knew that the original concept said that enemies, as well as friends, were also part of the same anam cara, but Harry didn't hold with that. _Why would two people who not only didn't get along, but _hated_ each other _want_ to spend more than one lifetime in each others' hair?_ Harry had thought when reading that particular segment. It wasn't until a year or so later when Harry had read another book on various reincarnation philosophies that the idea of enemies in his anam cara started to make sense. It had theorized in one chapter that a group of souls who spent many lifetimes together often switch roles around, like a troupe of actors. In one life, Harry's soul was Harry Potter; in the next, it might be someone's little sister, or his soul might decide to explore the darker half of human nature and become a bad guy. He still wasn't sure if he believed it or not, but it did lend a bit of light to why there were people who were definitely evil, yet still had people close to them. _Voldemort and his Death Eaters make an excellent case-in-point_, Harry mused, idly wondering where this latest train of thoughts had come from.

The letters and his philosophical musings on the concept of anam cara had the desired effect of passing the time, however. When Harry checked his watch after signing off on Ron's letter, he noticed that it was rapidly approaching eleven-thirty. He left a note on the dry-erase board on the fridge before heading over to Sirius'. Sirius met him at the front door. "It's tomorrow," he said.

"And as far as hints go, that one sucked." Harry grinned at Sirius and ducked under the Marauder's arms and into the house. "Anyone else here yet?"

"Just Remus," Sirius replied.

"Good, I forgot to tell him to come with me. Glad he's already here – saves me the trouble of calling home to let him know." Harry made his way to Sirius' sitting room.

"Hello, Harry," Remus greeted him. "May I ask why you're gathering four of the best pranksters of all time, a muggle psychologist, and a potions master?"

Harry grinned, "You'll find out when the others get here, Remus."

While they waited for the others to arrive, Remus and Sirius both tried their best to get Harry to talk, but he was remaining stubbornly silent. One by one – or in the case of the twins, two by two – the others Harry had invited arrived. At ten to noon, Snape was the last to show.

"Anyone need anything to drink?" Harry asked. After a round of negative replies, Harry continued. "I asked you all here today to put forth an idea I had. To put a little perspective on it, though, I think I should let you know what happened to me on Tuesday night." Over the course of the next half an hour, Harry told them about his encounter with Lord Voldemort, during which Chad took copious notes. By the time Harry was done, the twins were sporting identical expressions of awe, Remus and Sirius looked slightly ill, and Professor Snape was stonily unreadable. Harry assumed that this meant that the man was more disturbed than he cared to show while still in the presence of Sirius. Harry was just grateful that neither of them had opted to start in on the other.

"Now, with that out of the way, I believe I mentioned something about an idea, didn't I?" Harry smirked. "Well, it occurred to me that if the snake-faced bastard was otherwise occupied, he wouldn't be able to come after me or my friends."

"Just how do you propose to keep the Dark Lord 'otherwise occupied,' Potter?" Severus asked.

Harry's smirk broadened into a full-fledged grin which he leveled at the two Marauders and the twins. "By pranking him, of course!"

The silence which followed his statement was the sort that was often portrayed in cartoons as being punctuated by the sounds of crickets chirping. Harry rolled his eyes, "Come on, I know you're all rather intelligent. This isn't _that_ hard of a concept to grasp!"

The Weasleys broke the silence. "You mean to keep You-Know-Who busy…"

"…by _pranking_ him?"

Harry nodded, "Precisely. Now, I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill pranks. I'm not looking for fake wands or exploding cigars. What I need is a series of audio/visual hallucinations designed to irritate, annoy, and exasperate him into devoting his entire time to discovering how to be rid of them. Of course, this means that they'll need to be extraordinarily difficult to break."

Chad let out a low whistle, "Remind me to never get on your bad side, Harry."

"Perhaps a bit more extrapolation is in order." Snape's voice was calm and level. He may not enjoy the company of most of the people in the room, but he had to award a touch of respect to someone audacious enough to come up with such a plan. It had the further appeal of never having been tried before.

Remus nodded in agreement with his former colleague. "What, precisely, did you have in mind?"

Harry began outlining some of the ideas he'd come up with. It took several hours, and before the meeting was done, the twins were floored by the fact that they were joining pranking forces with their long-time idols, and said idols, along with Severus, were shocked to realize that they'd been working together for several hours with only the most minimal of insults thrown.

Harry was more than satisfied with the results of the afternoon, and was looking forward to hearing back from Severus and the twins the following week. That had been another revelation that Harry wasn't sure the professor would ever recover from; the fact that the twins were likely his equals in the potions' arena and that they'd been throwing their grades for most of their Hogwarts careers. Sirius and Remus would be working with Chad to come up with the most grating things for the hallucinations that they could. They had all agreed to meet up again the following Saturday.

At dinner that evening, Remus reflected that Harry's 'planning something' expression had mutated into one that distinctly rivaled that of a satisfied feline.

* * *

_13 April  
Snape-_

_Flobberworm base not thin enough for delivery mechanism._

_Compound runic algorithm incorporated into chlorophyll combined with sorghum shows promise on reality variables._

_Thoughts on siren blood?_

_-F&G_

* * *

_13/04/98  
Mssrs. Weasley-_

_Is it too much for your limited intelligence to bother using complete sentences?_

_I concur with your observations on the algorithm, though chlorophyll is notoriously unstable. Combining it with sorghum lessens this trait, however it decreases the effectiveness of the runic magic. This may not be an issue. Do we know if these hallucinations need be real to the touch?_

_Siren blood would be an excellent base, its properties are such that it would enhance the overall effect of the potion, but as an ingredient, it is prohibitively expensive. We might try the combination of griffin dander, rainwater, and stardust. It would have similar effects, yet if we go that route, the algorithm would need to be recalculated to address the addition of non-planetary material._

_-Prof. S. Snape_

* * *

_14 April  
Snape-_

_Price isn't an issue. Bring on the siren blood!_

_Just a thought, have you tried that program of Harry's? Maybe it can point us in a better direction._

_Preliminary trials with the chlorophyll compound prove unsuccessful. Can get either sight or sound, but not both at the same time, the fifth runic vector appears to be the culprit. Is there any way to incorporate a cyclic draining charm? Our sources state that its possible, but don't go into any detail. We think it would solve part of the stability issue._

_-F&G_

* * *

_14/04/98  
Weasleys-_

_Dare I ask how you managed to get Potter to agree to the use of siren blood?_

_Incorporating the charm would be a valid way to solve stability, yet it then brings up the probability of the Dark Lord tracing the lingering magical residue in the charm back to you. I would assume we would like to avoid that if at all possible. Using invisibility cloth might be able to mask the magical signature, should we choose to incorporate a draining charm. I would presume that if siren blood poses no financial burden, the cost of invisibility cloth would prove likewise._

_The thought had crossed my mind to make use of Mr. Potter's computer program, yet I haven't the time to do so this week. The fifth and seventh years are starting preparations for their OWLs and NEWTs, and as such they have a correspondingly high workload._

_-Prof. S. Snape_

* * *

"What about something totally muggle? That really ought to put a dent in his day," Sirius chuckled.

Chad looked up, "I have a couple of ideas, if we decide to go that route."

"Do tell," Remus looked frankly curious.

The three of them were drinking tea, sitting around Sirius' kitchen table. Chad let out a small, humorless laugh. "Well, growing up, me and Jenny were dragged to church every Sunday by our folks. Catholic, you know, though now I tell most folks I'm recovering. I don't think that either Jenny or me have been inside a church, except for our respective weddings, since we graduated high school. Anyway, the priest that gave the Sunday sermons after we'd moved to the Boston area was a real hellfire-and-brimstone sort. He probably could have made a killing if he'd been pretty enough for television."

"You want to _preach_ at the most evil wizard of the age?" Sirius asked, incredulous.

"Why not? Two, three hours of that sort of preaching would be enough to make even the most devout want to put a gun barrel in their mouth."

Remus laughed at the mental image Chad's words had conjured up. "There's other things that might be more effective. Most wizards either don't follow religion or still hold to the Old Ways."

"Old Ways?"

"The pagan religions that predominated prior to the advent of Christianity," Remus clarified.

Chad shrugged, "Whatever. It was just a thought. If you still want something muggle… well, I had the distinct displeasure of being subjected to a horrible TV show about a year ago when my daughter, Jesse, and my granddaughter, Ellie, visited. Either of you ever hear of 'Barney?'"

* * *

_16 April  
Snape-_

_You do realize that you'd have more free time if you didn't assign so much work, don't you?_

_And we think this particular project is being financed by our employer, so the cost of ingredients really isn't an issue. If you want to know more about that, you'll have to talk to Harry._

_Using invisibility cloth is a good approach. We've had success with some of our other endeavors in using it to mask the magical signature of charms added to some of our more creative pranks. And no, the hallucinations shouldn't be real to the touch. If they were, they would provide far too much in the way of satisfaction if the DL tried hexing them, not to mention that it would rouse too much suspicion in the DE ranks if a thrown cup or something bounced off something that wasn't really there._

_Other than the delivery mechanism, have we given any thought to how we're going to get these little concoctions into the DL's presence?_

_-F&G_

* * *

_16/04/98  
Weasleys-_

_Leave the delivery to me. Enclosed is an atomizer of the appropriate size. Have either of you spoken with Mr. Thomas's group? It would be beneficial to know whether we will need to configure the potion for layered imagery or not._

_Why would I consider lessening the workload of my students? Is it not my job to prepare them for the unreasoning demands on their time they will face as adults?_

_-Prof. S. Snape_

* * *

_17 April  
Snape-_

_Do you know what happens if you combine Pepper-up with muggle espresso and chocolate? Genius._

_We had the fourth runic variable wrong. Changing it from Tyr to a compound Haegal/Eh/Lagu rune will solve the majority of the issues that have surfaced. In fact, if we remove Wyrd entirely, even the issues of viscosity and traceability disappear. Adding Is to the equation makes the entire thing unbreakable except by a highly trained potions master._

_-F&G_

Severus groaned at the twins' latest note. He suddenly realized that, if not immediately, then eventually, the Dark Lord would be demanding much of his precious spare time to work on 'breaking' the spells. _With luck, perhaps that won't be necessary._ Severus snorted at the optimistic voice in the back of his head before shoving it back where it belonged, in the deepest recesses of his highly-organized mind.

* * *

Unaware of the flurry of owls passing between Fred, George, and Professor Snape, as well as the ever-increasing absurdity of ideas boiling up among Sirius, Remus, and Chad, Harry spent his week working on both his schoolwork and his magical lessons. He'd received word from Professor Vector that he was starting to catch up with the current seventh year class, and the professor for Ancient Runes had told him the same. He knew he was slightly ahead of the potions' class – his lesson with Snape had been Sunday evening, and the professor had informed him of that during their brewing. He was even making progress with the animagus transformation. During his lesson on Tuesday evening, he'd managed to change his hair to a crop of feathers that were harder to get rid of than to obtain. In defense, however, he pushed himself harder than ever before. It was one thing to have a natural talent for mathematics – something that made his learning of arithmancy so easy – and his knack for science carried over to the potions laboratory, but dueling was something that he'd never had to do before, unless one counted evading Dudley and his pack of Harry Hunters.

When Remus managed to best him the third time in a row on Monday afternoon, he mentioned that he was surprised that he'd escaped Voldemort so easily. Harry replied that fear for one's life often made them capable of extraordinary feats, but acknowledged the fact that Voldemort had likely been thrown off-balance by the combination of Harry's banter before the duel proper and the probability that he'd been expecting an untrained pushover. Harry knew he wouldn't have the benefit of surprise again, and so began training in every spare moment. When not actually drilling Remus for defense theory, he could often be found working on making most of his spell-knowledge wandless through the meditative trance he'd used in the basement of the Riddle mansion. He also began getting up an hour earlier each morning and going for a jog around the neighborhood. He wasn't about to give up even the smallest possible edge in the fight against the Dark Tosser.

Thursday afternoon, Harry's phone vibrated to let him know he had an incoming call. Excusing himself from his 3D art class, he quickly stepped out into the hall and answered the call. It was from Andie Tonks, letting him know that a court-date for Dudley had been selected for May 29 at nine in the morning. Harry thanked her for the information and went back to his clay.

* * *

Saturday, April 18, 1998 was one of those rare, beautiful days in early spring where the sunlight was bright and strong, there was no wind to speak of, and the sky was a perfect shade of faded-levis blue, dotted here and there with fluffy, white clouds. Early-season flowers were all blooming brightly, trees were starting to unfurl their leaves, and birds were chirping the morning away. Contrasted with this glorious weather outside, Sirius' sitting room was a disappointment. The curtains were closed, so only a weak echo of the bright sunlight outside filtered into the room. There were piles of notes scattered over every horizontal surface, including the sofa and the floor. And since Sirius wasn't much of a housekeeper to begin with, there was thick dust on every seldom-used item, and empty coffee and tea mugs were scattered hither and yon.

Harry was standing in the doorway, hard-pressed not to break out laughing. Remus was stretched out on the floor, his face buried in a rather impressive tome, snoring loudly. Sirius was sitting nearby, using the coffee table as a desk, and he had obviously fallen asleep mid-word while writing, as the last thing on the parchment was '…singin' followed by a long trail of ink. Chad was nowhere to be seen.

"It's a sight, isn't it?" the previously unaccounted-for Chad whispered from just behind Harry.

Harry nodded. "That it is, Chad. I almost hate to wake them."

Chad snickered quietly. "Go ahead. Those two have gotten more sleep in the last week than I have since you hired me. You can tell neither of them are at all accustomed to having to go without sleep for long periods."

Harry, remembering a couple of incidents where he had been rudely ripped from sleep by Remus, pulled out his wand and whispered, "Rictusempra."

Remus quivered, then jerked awake laughing. Seeing that he was very awake, Harry cancelled the spell. Remus then took several minutes to stretch and yawn, stammering out, "That… wasn't… _even_… nice!" between said yawns. Harry simply grinned.

"Mutt can sleep through anything, can't he?" Chad said, motioning to Sirius.

Remus shrugged, waited for yet another yawn to run its course, and replied, "Yeah, he can." He smiled and chuckled a little, "Let me wake him, yeah? It seems to me that I have yet to get him back for a particularly rude morning back in our seventh year." He stood and pulled out his wand.

Harry stepped aside and shrugged, "Have at him." He was curious as to what spell Remus was going to use.

Remus smiled a little ferally, aimed his wand, and said, "Aguamenti."

A stream of water shot from Remus' wand and hit Sirius right on his head. Remus cancelled the spell as quickly as he cast it and had his wand away before a sputtering Sirius had the chance to clear the water from his eyes. "Looks like you've got a little problem there, Padfoot."

Realizing that he'd been subjected to a prank, Sirius growled and sprang for Remus, changing mid-leap into his canine alter-ego. Chad and Harry watched from the relative safety of the doorway whilst all-out war descended on the sitting room. "Shouldn't we have popcorn?" Chad asked.

"Point," Harry replied and conjured some.

About fifteen minutes later, the floo flared, and the twins stepped directly into the chaos. They took a split-second to assess the situation before exchanging bright grins, and shouting, "Free-for-all!" and joining in the melee.

"Twenty bucks on the twins," Chad said, munching on the popcorn, and watching as the Marauders joined forces against the freckled redheads.

"Naw, Sirius and Remus will take them. They've got more experience," Harry replied as Sirius got one of the twins with a tarantallegra.

"But the boys have more energy, they'll outlast them." Chad lazily ducked as a stray transfiguration curse whizzed overhead.

Just then, the floo flared once more and Professor Snape stepped through. He was immediately hit with a spell that turned his hair neon pink. Once realizing this, which wasn't more than a fraction of a millisecond, his wand was out. His first petrificus hit Sirius squarely in the chest, the second took care of Remus. The twins' faces paled when they realized just who it was that had appeared in their midst. "Run!" one of them shouted. They were both mere steps from the door – and safety – before they found themselves chained together at the ankle. They tripped, and before they could use their unequaled powers of cooperation to stand and continue fleeing, Severus had them both shackled to rings he'd transfigured from the floor.

Idly canceling the spell on his hair, Snape glared first at the twins, then at the Marauders. "One cannot help but wonder just _what_ is going on here."

The entire sequence of events, from the time Severus appeared in the floo until he spoke that sentence had taken a mere ten seconds. Chad looked impressed, and Harry was chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Chad answered, "Just blowin' off some steam. Popcorn?" he held out the bowl.

It took Harry a good ten minutes to set the room to rights as he had to stop every few moments to laugh. Once everything was back to the way it was before he'd woken Remus, he motioned for Chad and the professor to have a seat. He then turned his attention to undoing the spells holding the twins and the Marauders captive. Once freed, they all took seats around the room, looking expectantly at Harry. Harry shrugged and merely said, "Well? We all know why we're here. What've you got for me?"

"Well," Fred said, "we're pretty sure that we've figured out how to make those hallucinations you wanted. And, we're also pretty damn sure that they'll be bugger-hard to break."

Snape snorted and rolled his eyes, "What, I am sure, the Gryffindor imbecile is trying to say is that we have a potions-based medium for delivery. It is currently awaiting the charms for whatever hallucinations are to be used."

"Quick question," Chad piped up. "Can the images we use be layered, so that if he manages to get rid of one, another will surface?"

George shot an 'I-told-you-so' look at the professor. "Yes, it can. Thought that might come in handy, we did."

"And what, precisely, will those images be?" Snape queried.

Sirius and Remus both began talking at once before Chad interrupted them and took it on himself to explain their ideas.

* * *

Two weeks later, a house-elf loyal to Hogwarts and subsequently all the Hogwarts staff, was instructed to add the potion he carried in his tea-towel loincloth to all meals for The Evil One after having been told to join the staff of elves already serving said Evil One. The elf wasn't happy about his orders, but he knew that he had no choice in the matter – he only hoped that he would go unnoticed. He'd heard how The Evil One treated elves… On the positive side, though, he would get the chance to see how some of his relatives were doing, in particular his favorite cousin, Dobby.

The potion was a light golden color, and the elf rather liked the small bottle it was in. It reminded him of some of the perfume bottles that the students used. He wondered whether or not he'd be allowed to keep the bottle when the potion was gone.

* * *

Voldemort was enjoying a mid-afternoon nap on May fourth before he noticed anything out of the ordinary. He was hovering in that hazy area between awake and true sleep when he heard something coming from the corner of his bedchamber at Malfoy Manor.

"This ol' man, he played one…"

The Dark Lord snapped to full consciousness in a split-second and looked wildly around the darkened room. His eyes fell on a small child, a little girl, standing next to the heavily-curtained window. She was around four years of age, cherubically innocent with a round face, wide eyes, and pigtails. She was wearing a frilly, blue dress and _singing_. "Lucius didn't mention any children other than Draco…" Voldemort mused, going for his wand.

He aimed at the little girl.

"Silencio," he murmured.

The girl's singing got louder. "Knick-knack-paddy-whack, give a dog a bone, this ol' man came rollin' home…"

"What the hell?" Voldemort shook his head, then his wand, unconsciously mimicking what he'd seen muggles do to torches that flickered whilst growing up. "_Silencio!_"

It didn't work.

"THIS OL' MAN, HE PLAYED THREE, HE PLAYED KNICK-KNACK ON MY KNEE…"

"_I'll_ play something on your knee if you don't shut up!" He aimed a third time. "Avada Kedavra!"

Instead of falling down dead, the curse hit the little girl and she glowed green for a moment before doubling in size and splitting into two identical clones. One of them continued singing while the other grew taller and darker. The blue dress morphed into long, black robes with a stiff, white collar. The girl's cherubic face hardened into that of a middle-aged man. "Repent, sinner, for the time of Armageddon is at hand!"

A small tick developed just under Voldemort's left eye.

* * *

**A/N2:** All right, so I was sick for a week and a half while writing this. It shows all too well, doesn't it? It's also part of the reason this chappie was so long in coming. _Sheepish grin._ Sorry about that.

I also fully admit to being an American. And, as I've not had my own internet connection for some months – going on a year now – I haven't been able to research the ways in which British culture differs from that of the US. Writers write what they know, and I have to say that it is obvious when dealing with this particular story. I'm truly sorry about all the Americanisms – like Harry learning to drive when he did and his muggle schooling and such, but all I really know is the system I grew up with. Hell, the laws on getting a drivers' license here in Iowa literally changed the day after I got mine, and so I don't really know the details on the US laws regarding that anymore. When I get my internet back, I'll try to go through the story and rewrite bits of it to be more Brit-compliant. Until then, though, I'll leave you with what my Mom told me – this is my world. It isn't the real world, and it definitely ain't cannon. Just accept the differences for now. If it helps, think of this as the world sandwiched between this one and the one in cannon.

One last thing; I don't know if I want to include a trial chapter for the situation with Dudley or not. If I do, then it will probably be completely Americanized, simply because the only experience I have with court stuff is either traffic court or the stuff I've seen in movies. What do y'all think? Trial shown or not?

(I had the odd pleasure of getting to watch 'Snakes on a Plane' while writing this. It was odd simply because I kept expecting Harry to appear and give the snakes a sound scolding or start up a chorus line or something… Guess that means I spend _way_ too much time in HP land, ya think?)

This ol' man, he played seven,  
he sent a review straight from heaven...


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:** Alas, though I wish it were, most of this isn't mine. All I can claim are some OC's and what passes for a plot. Everything else is the domain of the Goddess JKR and her brotherhood of lawyers and corporate entities.

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! You are why this keeps going… and going… and going… I'm still shocked every time I see the review count for this fic. _Sniffs._ Y'all ROCK!!

I had a couple of people wondering why Harry wasn't immediately pressured into revealing what happened during his kidnapping. He was sick and would _you_ want to try to cross Jenn if she'd said to leave him be until he was feeling better?

Just a mild warning here, this chapter delves a little into the dark side of life. I have tried to balance this a bit by including more of ol' snake-face and his hallucinations, but I don't know how effective I am at creating or maintaining that balance.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty: Requiem**

The cold that Remus had suffered was making the rounds of both the muggle and magical worlds. Allen had a particularly bad case, and had, for the last week, been forced to stay in bed at Jenn's insistence. Friday morning, however, Allen was sick and tired of staring at the same patch of ceiling and put his foot down. Well… To rephrase that, he snuck out when Jennifer was otherwise occupied on her latest project for ArcSoft and made his way to the shop.

Allen, like his wife, was fifty-seven. He was also not nearly as active as he had been as a young man and sported a 'spare tire' that weighed a good thirty pounds around his midsection. High blood-pressure ran in his family, and he'd been told time and again by his doctor that he should be careful of what he ate, but Allen took that particular advice with several grains of salt at each meal; he assumed doctors were always harping on _everyone_ about what they ate, at least, that was how it seemed.

And so, with a cold that had worsened into a rampant case of the flu, complete with a judgment-impairing low-grade fever, Allen returned to work. He was straining to lift a rather heavy box of parts when he completely lost his grip. His left arm was as numb and tingly as though he'd slept on it all week.

"You all right, boss?" Mike called out from where he was working on a customer's crumpled fender.

"Yeah," Allen hollered back. "Just dropped a box is all. Think I'll leave it for later. I'll be in the office if anyone needs me."

"Sure thing, boss," Mike replied and returned to the fender.

An hour and a half later, when Allen hadn't joined everyone else outside at the picnic bench behind the shop for lunch, Tim Marshfield headed inside, only to find Allen slumped over his desk, a mess of papers and pens littering both the desk and the floor. The phone had been knocked off its cradle and was beeping noisily.

Tim knew what had happened, yet didn't want to believe it. His heart-rate tripled and he rushed to Allen's side. "Boss?" When he received no response, he reached out and shook Allen's shoulder. "Allen? Come on, mate, answer me! If you've gone and done what I think, Jenn's gonna kill us both!"

Allen merely slumped a little lower in the chair before slowly sliding off.

Wondering what was taking so long, Mike followed Tim into the shop and stopped short at the doorway to the office. "Tim…?"

Tim looked up, his face unnaturally pale under his thinning brown hair. "Call an ambulance!"

* * *

_I don't know how,_ Voldemort thought, glaring at the choir of small children singing 'Little Bunny Foo-Foo' directed by a giant purple plush _thing_ – Voldemort wasn't sure what it was _supposed_ to be, only that it _looked_ like a child's drawing of a bipedal salamander – _but that Potter-brat _has_ to be behind this!_

Those few Death Eaters who had witnessed their Lord's rebirth glanced uneasily at one another out of the corners of their eyes. Ever since that fateful night of three weeks prior, their Lord had been growing stranger… He often leveled hexes and curses, not at _them_ – _that_ would have been consistent with how he had behaved in the past – but at _thin air_. Lucius was not present at the current meeting. Two days earlier, he'd had the misfortune to ask what it was the Dark Lord was hexing, and had been crucioed for his trouble. He'd also been told, by that same Dark Lord, _not_ to return until he either had a solution for the current problem – of which he didn't know the details– or had Potter's head on a platter. Needless to say, Lucius had made himself scarce.

"My Death Eaters," Voldemort tried to ignore the singing. "Today, I have – "

"Down came the good fairy and _she_ said – "

"Foo-foo."

"Did our Lord just say 'foo-foo?'" Avery whispered to Crouch.

"I think so," Crouch replied, barely moving his lips, his expression one of utmost disbelief. "I think so."

Voldemort wondered when the children would shut up. He'd managed to figure out that they usually didn't mutate unless hit by a spell. _Usually_. There seemed to be some sort of random-generation to the spell that caused whatever it was that he happened to be suffering to change on its own every time he slept. He was thankful for that, at least. That preacher had been _really_ annoying. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Today I have managed to –"

"…And the moral of the story: _Hare_ today –"

"_Goon_ tomorrow," Voldemort muttered, then cursed loudly and viciously. In nineteen languages, three of which were dead.

Even Bellatrix was sporting a slightly concerned and worried expression.

* * *

Harry wasn't too sure what was wrong with him; he felt anxious and edgy for seemingly no good reason. It wasn't his scar – ever since Voldemort had started consuming the potion that Professor Snape and the twins had created, Harry hadn't had a single Dark-Lord-induced vision, an unforeseen side-effect for which he was eminently grateful. He still couldn't shake the feeling that _something_ was wrong, though.

"Harry?"

Harry snapped his attention back to Mr. Eindelberg. "Sir?"

"I was just asking you to recite Huygens' principle for the class."

Harry shook his head as though clearing water from his ears, "Ah… Yes, sir. Huygens' principle is the wave theory of light based on the idea of secondary wavelets spreading from each point as a wavefront such that the envelope of these wavelets forms the new wavefronts."

The physics instructor nodded, "Precisely. And can anyone explain how that principle would affect the experiment on page three-fifty?"

Sandra Brekman, a rather attractive girl of middle-eastern decent raised her hand to answer. "It would likely increase the chances of optical interference."

Harry lowered his head back to his notes. His anxious feeling was getting worse. There was something _majorly _wrong. _It's not my scar… What else could it be? Is someone using magic nearby? Is that it?_ During the week following his recovery after his kidnapping, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, and Dumbledore had added to the wards and protections surrounding the Kellerman home. While they were working, Harry had felt a little prickle along his nerves. After talking with Remus, he'd learned that such a response was how a powerful wizard knew there was strong magic – ritual magic – being used nearby. He was also needlessly informed that he'd likely be able to tell when he'd been hit by a spell without an immediate, noticeable effect.

_If that's it, though, I'd hate to know what they're doing. This feels so much _worse_ than the wards did…_

"Harry?"

Harry blinked and looked up. "Sorry, sir. What was that?"

"The bell rang for lunch five minutes ago," Mr. Eindelberg smiled at him.

Harry tried to reply in kind, but found himself grimacing instead. "Sorry, sir," he repeated, gathering his notes and textbook.

"I know you were out sick a couple of weeks ago, but are you sure you're fully recovered? You usually pay better attention than this," Mr. Eindelberg said, though not unkindly.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know _what's_ wrong, sir… I just feel… not _ill_, just not quite myself, either. Sorry I wasn't paying attention."

Mr. Eindelberg scoffed, "Don't worry about it, Harry. It was mostly review. What classes do you have after lunch? Do you think you could miss them?"

Harry thought for a moment, "Probably. You think I should skive off the rest of today?"

Eindelberg grinned, "Of course not! A teacher _encouraging_ absenteeism! Surely you jest!" Harry managed a weak smile. "But seriously, though. You're not doing yourself any good if you can't pay attention. If you want, I'll write you a pass for the rest of the day."

Harry shook his head, "Thanks, sir, but… I don't really want to have to miss any more school than I already have. I think I'll just have a lie-down in the nurse's office until lunch is over. Maybe I'll feel better after."

"If you don't, make sure Annie sends you home – like I said, you aren't doing yourself any favors if you can't pay attention."

Harry nodded and thanked his teacher once more before heading for his locker. He spun the combination and stowed his books inside. Halfway to the nurse's office, his phone buzzed silently in his pocket. He paused just outside a bathroom and answered, "Hello?"

"Harry, this is Remus. You need to come home immediately; it's an emergency."

Harry's sense of unease tripled and he paled a little. "What sort of emergency?"

There was some background noise and Harry could hear Sirius say, "Screw that, Moony. Tell him to get to somewhere alone and I'll apparate to him." Remus had just finished relaying Sirius' message when a muffled pop sounded just at Harry's elbow.

Harry jumped and very nearly dropped the phone. "I'll see you shortly, Harry," Remus said and ended the call. Harry replaced the phone in his pocket, looking expectantly at his godfather. He was obviously stressed and worried.

"What's happened?" Harry asked.

Sirius took a deep breath, "Come on, where's the office? Don't want you in trouble for leaving early…"

"It's this way," Harry motioned. "Sirius, what _happened_? Was it Voldemort? The Death Eaters? What?"

Sirius merely shook his head, "No, Harry. It wasn't him. It's… Hell. Allen had a heart-attack."

Harry stopped in his tracks. "What? How bad?"

Sirius closed his eyes and shook his head. "The worst."

While Sirius dealt with the office, Harry gathered his things from his locker in a trancelike state. His anxiety had completely disappeared and left him numb.

* * *

A couple of days later, Monday, May fourth, Harry was wearing a new suit, tying the tie while looking into the mirror on the back of his bedroom door. He hadn't wanted to bother with getting another suit, but he didn't feel that the navy blue one he already owned would be appropriate. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was nearing noon.

Sirius was sitting on the bed, offering Harry the comfort of his presence, even if he had no idea what to say to make his godson feel better. In fact, he didn't know what to do to make _himself _feel better – he'd quite liked Allen; the man had had a great sense of humor and had helped him tune his motorcycle back into shape. He didn't envy Harry's position at all, and had once _been_ in Jenn's shoes. This time, though, there wasn't a convenient rat to point his wand at; it had just been… well, Fate.

Harry looked good – if one ignored the fact that he was pale and his eyes were reddened – in the starkly black suit with matching tie and plain white shirt. No one had seen him cry; Sirius was pretty sure he was trying to be strong for Jenn's sake. Sirius didn't blame him for that. Jennifer had been in a state of near-catatonia ever since the phone call Friday morning from Tim. He'd since learned from Chad that the two of them had been together for over thirty years, and married for most of them.

Quietly breaking the silence, Sirius whispered, "Come on, Pup. It's time to go."

Harry nodded and followed his godfather down the stairs and into the waiting limousine. Sirius and Remus sat with Harry, across from Jenn and Chad. It wasn't long before they arrived at the church where Allen's funeral service was being held. As a precaution, the Order had several members providing covert security for the day. Walking into the crowded church – Allen had been a well-liked and much-appreciated member of the community of Little Whinging – Sirius could see the Tonkses, Arabella Figg, and he was pretty sure that the old man with the white ponytail in the far corner was Albus, but he couldn't be certain, as the man's back was to him. The only major surprise was that Snape was one of the Order members present. The dour man was standing in the furthest-back corner of the church watching everyone and everything with a neutral, blank expression on his face, though his eyes never stopped scanning the crowd.

After the preacher had finished his part, one by one, friends and family of Allen Kellerman stood to give their final goodbyes. When Harry was signaled for his turn, Sirius gave him a little squeeze on his shoulder. Harry nodded a little and patted his godfather's hand before climbing the short series of stairs to the dais.

Sirius had no idea what Harry was going to say; neither did Remus. In fact, neither of them had been aware that Harry had agreed to speak today. Harry cleared his throat with a little 'ahem' noise before beginning. Though he didn't speak very loudly, the acoustics of the church were quite excellent, and no one had any difficulty hearing what Harry said.

"When I was a baby, I lost my parents and was sent to live with some relatives here in Little Whinging. It was not a happy situation for either them or me. When I turned fifteen, I was given an order to find a job to help out with the bills, _or else_.

"I first met Allen a little over two years ago when I'd applied for a job at his shop. He surprised me when he hired me on the spot, no questions asked. He further surprised me when he gave me my first paycheck; he'd known that I was having some… issues with my guardians and had given me half my check in cash, even providing me with a safe place to keep it away from my aunt and uncle.

"Shortly afterwards, I was invited to his home for dinner and met his charming wife, Jennifer. The two of them started looking out for me whenever they could; Allen always had an extra sandwich and apple in his lunch for me. He was always available to listen to me, to what _I_ said, to _my_ dreams and wants… It was something I'd _never_ had before.

"More than that, though; he and Jenn gave me something I hadn't known I _needed_. They gave me _acceptance_. At the shop I learned not only how to fix a leaking radiator and how to file paperwork, but also that not _everything_ I did was wrong. That I could be _good_ for something. That I wasn't the waste of space that my relatives kept telling me I was.

"After a couple of months, I began talking more with the other guys that worked with me, and found that they, too, didn't have the same expectations of me that my aunt and uncle did. I found in them three brothers I never thought I'd have. I never would have started talking to them if Allen hadn't made me realize that maybe, just _maybe_, my relatives were the ones who were wrong.

"This just past summer, Allen gave me something I have come to treasure more than anything else I've ever had in my life. For my birthday, he and Jenn gave me a key to their house. They gave me a _home_, and a chance to be rid of the Dursleys forever. A chance to truly be myself, in my own way and my own time.

"I am who I am today in no small part due to Allen. I love him like the father I lost when I was little, and know that he's with my mum and dad in whatever hereafter awaits us all." Harry looked up from where he'd been staring at a vague nothing a few feet from his face and focused upwards. "I hope I do right by you, Allen. When we eventually meet again, I want you, Mum, and Dad to be able to say that you're proud of me." Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and quickly returned to his place next to Jenn, on the bench in front of Sirius and Remus.

Leaning close to Sirius' ear, Remus whispered, "Hell, Padfoot, _I'm _proud of him."

Sirius smiled a little, "Me, too, Remus. Me, too."

* * *

"I believe I'm beginning to sense a pattern here," Voldemort mused aloud to what an observer would assume was an empty room. To the Dark Lord's eyes, however, there was another entity present. The choir of children and their plush conductor had sufficiently irritated him into another AK, and what had taken their place was – by far – _worse_.

Voldemort took great pride in being descended of the noble Salazar Slytherin, and, insofar as he was capable of the emotion, absolutely _loved_ being a parselmouth. However, at the moment, he wished he wasn't. There was an albino snake, Voldemort wasn't sure what species it was, singing very loudly and off-key.

"Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know…"

"They're always loudest when I'm trying to sleep, and they get really repetitive when I'm trying to talk to someone…" Voldemort's spoken thought trailed off and he glanced from the snake to his wand and back again. "Do I dare chance it?" He shrugged; it wasn't as if it could get _more_ annoying, could it? "Avada Kedavra!"

The blinding flash of green light faded and instead of the snake, Voldemort's eyes fell on what had to be the single _largest_ cricket he'd ever seen. It stood nearly seven feet tall, and barely fit in his room at Malfoy Manor.

_Squirrrch-creeeeek._

The 'chirp' made his skull vibrate.

_Squirrrch-creeeeek._

For the first time since he was a very small boy, Voldemort wanted to cry. "I just want some bloody _sleep_!" Yes, the darkest wizard since Grindelwald was whining. Did he care? Not particularly.

_Squirrrch-creeeeek._

_Squirrrch-creeeeek._

_Squirrrch-creeeeek._

"AVADA KEDAVRA!!"

Had the cricket been real, Voldemort doubted that there would have been much left of it other than a grease-spot, he'd channeled _that_ much power into the curse. Well, a very _large_ grease-spot.

As it turned out, Voldemort was wondering just how he could get the preacher back.

An overly made-up bottle-blonde was smiling prettily and holding her hand up so that nonexistent spotlights could sparkle and glitter off of a particularly hideous and gaudy ring while another woman, slightly older and brunette, said, "Yes folks! A genuine-imitation Austrian crystal diamond! This stunning three-karat weight of princess-cut beauty and perfection can be _yours_ for the low, low introductory price of twenty-five pounds! Only three thousand of these gorgeous rings were ever made!"

Voldemort _didn't _succumb to the temptation to bang his head into the nearest wall repeatedly, though he honestly had to talk himself out of it.

* * *

On the Saturday following Allen's funeral, Harry was once again suited up and shiny. He was sitting between Tim and Jenn on a leather sofa. Mike and his wife, Bea, were likewise sitting on a smaller sofa nearby. Chad was sitting in one of the wooden chairs across the desk from the estate lawyer, one Sanjay Ramaswami. Nigel was sitting in the other wooden chair, looking decidedly uncomfortable and more than a little dislocated.

After the preliminaries, Ramaswami took up a sheaf of paperwork and began reading. Harry let the words wash over him, only a couple of things stuck in his mind long enough to make any sort of impact.

"…to my good friends, Michael Gambeson Peterson and Timothy Jacob Marshfield, I leave my automotive repair center, located at…"

_I suppose that makes sense,_ Harry thought, _Mike's got a family to support, and Tim's flat-out stated that he wouldn't want to ever work anywhere else._

"…to my brother-in-law, Chadwick Alva Thomas, I leave my silver 1966 Corvette convertible, currently in storage at Boston Municipal Long-term Warehouse Storage Facility, with the stipulation that he be more careful with her this time…"

"I'll be damned, he _fixed_ the 'vette?" Chad whispered, his tone somewhere between shocked and angry. "If he _fixed_ her, why the _hell_ has he been arguing with me all this time?"

_Probably because he liked arguing with you,_ Harry thought, a mere ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Ramaswami cleared his throat and continued reading the document, not pausing to comment on Chad's questions.

"…to my good friend, Nigel Caelum Smythwick, I leave my silver and opal cufflinks and advise him to locate a sweet lady to settle down with…"

Harry mentally rolled his eyes, _Not too likely on that score, Allen. Nigel's about as ready to settle down as _I_ am to forgive the Dursleys!_

"…to my surrogate son, Harold James Potter, I leave my Saint Christopher medal, which has been in my family since my great-grandfather won it in Sunday school as a child. It always brought me luck, may it do the same for you…"

Harry looked up from where he was contemplating his hands, _Did he just say 'surrogate son?'_ He couldn't help his reaction, he missed Allen something fierce, and had to remind himself at least three times each day that the man was gone. He closed his eyes, and silent tears escaped.

Jenn finally noticed something outside her own little world, and without saying a word, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to her side, resting her head on his.

* * *

_10 May, 1998  
Dear Harry,_

_Dad told me, and I hope you're not mad at either of us, and I told Hermione. About Allen, I mean. I know words don't help much, but I'm sorry for your loss. I know it isn't quite the same thing, but something happened in my second year here at Hogwarts and my little sister, Ginny, has been in Saint Mungos ever since. I know she's not… Well, that she's still alive, and so it really isn't the same thing at all, but it's still similar. The healers don't know when or if she'll ever recover._

_If you ever need someone to rail at, you know where I am._

_Ron_

* * *

_10 May, 1998  
Dear Harry,_

_Ron's just told me about your friend. I'm sorry to hear what happened._

_I can't say that I've ever had any sort of experience in things like this, but I'm still here if you want to talk._

_Love,  
Hermione_

* * *

_12 May, 1998  
Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_I received your letters yesterday, and thanks for your support. I… I just don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling, or even if I really want to know what I'm feeling right now. I just know that I really miss him and keep expecting to come across him either here in the house or outside. Just last night, I had a question about something for him, and had even gotten up to go ask him when I remembered that he wasn't here anymore._

_Does that ever go away? Do I want it to go away?_

_I suppose I'll probably see you soon. I still have work to do to be ready for NEWTs, and, as the last week has proven, time won't stop just for me._

_Harry_

* * *

Yet again, Harry was finishing up his make-up work from the time he'd missed from school. It wasn't up to his usual standard, even he knew that, but it was the best he could do, considering. He just couldn't dredge up the necessary enthusiasm to _care_ what the US presence in Vietnam during the early sixties had to do with _anything_, let alone what the results of Melde's experiment were. He didn't dare pick up a paintbrush in his current mental state, either. He didn't want to know what his subconscious would come up with.

A light knock on his open bedroom door interrupted him. Looking up from his computer screen, he saw that Nigel was standing in the doorway. "Hey, Harry. Ready to go back to school?"

Harry shrugged, "Not particularly, but if I want to graduate this year, I'm going to have to, aren't I?"

Nigel thought a moment before shrugging in agreement. "What are you working on now?"

Harry shrugged, "History. What did you need?"

Nigel stepped further into the room and gazed at the forest mural, "That's not half-bad, Harry."

"So I've been told more than once."

Nigel turned and sighed, "I'm really not that great at getting folks to feel happy when they're disinclined to do so. In that case, I've got two things for you. The first is that I've contacted some old acquaintances in the US, and if you like them, they're more than willing to work for BKE."

Harry almost winced when his brain tried to go simultaneously in two separate and unrelated emotional directions; a large part of him was still deeply entrenched in his grief of losing Allen, and an equally large portion of him was gleeful at the mere mention of his embryonic business and intensely curious as to just what, or rather, _who_ Nigel had spoken with. Something of his inner conflict must have shown on his face, as Nigel took a seat on the corner of Harry's bed and chuckled a little. "You know, Harry, just because Allen died, it doesn't mean that you have to, too."

"Huh?"

Nigel shook his head, "That didn't quite come out properly. Shall I try again?" At Harry's nod, Nigel clarified, "I know it's somewhat unorthodox for a scientist to have any sort of religious leanings – most people assume the two are mutually exclusive. In my head, though, I don't see how finding out how the existing, material world works has anything to do with spirituality. I don't see how the evolution of man, as is currently accepted by the scientific community, proves or disproves the creation-theories accepted by numerous religions. Take the Big Bang, for example. Current scientific belief states that the universe originated from a single, super-concentrated point – a singularity. _The_ singularity. Nothing science can put forth can explain where that singularity came from, nor how long it existed before it exploded to create the universe as we know it. In my mind, why couldn't a… consciousness, for lack of a better word, have merely _wished_ it to explode, creating all we now know? There isn't any proof against such a theory. With me so far?"

Harry nodded, but sported a slightly confused expression. "What does that have to do with what you said about me and Allen, though?"

"I'm getting there, kiddo. Just wanted to make sure you knew where I was coming from. In any case, skipping a lot of my pet theories on theology and science, I'll jump right into the current state of things. When you love someone, be it as a lover, a friend, or as a member of your family, it's my belief that you trade bits of yourselves. Not _physically_, mind, but _spiritually_. Science is no closer to explaining what a soul is than they were a thousand years ago, so anything is possible, yeah? Therefore, when someone close to you dies, I think it hurts so much because they take a little piece of you with them when they go. By that thought, though, they also leave a little piece of themselves behind." Nigel paused for a moment and ran his hands through his hair. "I know you feel like crap right now, and it's all right to feel that way. You lost a little bit of yourself when Allen died. So did I, so did Jenn. The thing is, and this is what I hope will help, you still have a bit of him with you, too. Be happy for _that_, even if you're still sad about the rest of him not being here."

Harry managed a weak smile, "You've really _thought_ about all this, haven't you?"

Nigel nodded, "Yeah, I have."

"Why?"

Nigel was quiet for several minutes, and just as Harry was about to let him know that he didn't have to answer if he didn't want to, he nodded as though confirming something to himself. "Well… I know you know that I'm a wizard, Hogwarts-trained, and all." Harry nodded, and had the realization that for all he'd known the man for nearing three years, and had known of his wizardry since January, he'd never seen Nigel do any spellwork. "I don't know if you remember or not, but I was a Slytherin and finished up at Hogwarts in June of 1976. It wasn't a particularly good time to be a Slytherin, what with the Dark Lord gaining in power every day. My little brother, Kellan, was three years behind me, likewise a Slytherin. Now, we were… what's the term? First-generational purebloods? Our father was muggle-born. I'd always been something of a loaner in school, and had a reputation for doing things my own way. Kellan, though… He didn't have the courage to be anything but a follower. I loved him dearly, but he had a nasty streak in him that he just couldn't ignore.

"As you can probably surmise, he ended up getting recruited by the Death Eaters. His main assignment was to see if he could convince me to join the Dark Lord's side. I just couldn't _do _that, brother or no, so I took off to the US. While there, I found out that they require _everyone_ to have a working knowledge of things like math, science, and history – and having received nothing but a magical education for the previous seven years, I was rather behind. Hence, I went back to school. I have a GED proving my knowledge of muggle-things, which, along with spectacular SAT scores, got me into MIT. By the time I was through learning there, the whole issue with the Dark Lord here in Britain had become a moot point. I returned to find that my brother is in prison and that our parents had died while I was away.

"I spent a _lot_ of time wondering why things had happened that way, and eventually formed the opinions I just told you about." Nigel had given Harry quite a bit of food for thought, and had also managed to get Harry's mind focused on something other than his loss of the closest thing to a dad he could remember. He decided it was time to shift the subject back to his original point. "Anyway, like I said, I talked to some people I knew in the US and they're willing to come onboard BKE. Julia should be in London sometime in late June or early July, Brent, too. Those two are sort of a packaged set. Frank couldn't get away from his current commitments, but said that he'd be willing to talk to you either over the phone or email until he _does_ get the chance to drop by."

Harry dug out his BKE notebook and a pen. "Julia and Brent what? Got a last name for Frank? And what's Frank's email? Are they wizards or muggles? What are their specialties?"

Sirius and Remus, who had been lurking in the hallway unseen by Harry, exchanged small conspiratorial smiles. Their plan to hijack Harry out of his funk seemed to have worked, at least temporarily.

* * *

"I'm seeing things," Voldemort stated, glancing over his shoulder at the giant, smiling, plush _things_ that were following him, talking in gibberish. He'd tried to be rid of them when the purple one with the antenna had appeared two days earlier, but when he'd hit it with an AK, it had just laughed and clapped, shouting 'Again! Again!' before the yellow one appeared to join it. There were now four of the damn things, and Voldemort didn't dare hit them again.

"Pardon?" Lucius said, shaking his head a little. "Lord, I could swear that you just said that you're seeing things."

Voldemort growled low in his chest, "That would be because that is _precisely_ what I just said!" He wondered if hexing one of his followers would cause another of the _things_ to appear.

"My humble and most abject apologies, my Lord. What, if you don't mind my asking, are you seeing?"

Voldemort proceeded to explain about the little girl that had appeared, the preacher, the giant cricket, and all the rest. "I don't know _how_, but I am _sure_ it's Potter's doing!" he ended his rant.

"My Lord, may I ask –"

"I want you to _stop_ these blasted things from disturbing me; I haven't slept in a week!"

Lucius bowed low, "Yes, my Lord." Taking his chance that that was all the Dark Lord had wanted to discuss, Lucius made a hasty retreat from the drawing room and headed for the library. Three hours later, he was no closer to understanding how a half-trained teenager could have cursed Voldemort so completely, yet had located a word in one of the few muggle books he owned. It seemed to describe exactly what his Lord was suffering, and it _wasn't _a curse – at least, not in the magical sense.

The word was schizophrenia.

* * *

**A/N2:** And that's that. Shorter than the last few, but I felt this was a logical place to pause for now.

I also get the sense from my reviewers that y'all are hankering to see some romance… I think I'll take this moment to state that I don't believe in love at first sight and that I don't think anyone finds their 'soul-mate' at seventeen. With that said, I'll warn y'all that it's going to be quite some time before Harry even _meets_ his future wife. Though I don't plan each chapter out in advance, I do have several pages of notes of things I want to have happen in this story, and some of these things don't happen until Harry is in his thirties. I can tell you, however, that Harry will be reaching several key dating milestones with some of the characters in cannon. However, all you specific-genre-fans, read closely: This is marked as 'general' for a reason. This story is about Harry's _life_, and life is rarely a single genre; moments of sheer terror are often mingled with panicky humor, romance is often littered with anguish and torment. I'm trying to make Harry's life in this story as _real_ as possible by mingling all these elements.

To romance-fans, though, I will say this: Soon, there will be a chapter wherein Sirius meets someone. I don't know all her details, yet, but she's slowly becoming clearer to me (and to the Sirius/Remus shippers out there: Personally, I agree with you, but I've already established Remus as straight in this story. If you don't remember, refer back to chapter one.) I don't recall if I've said this before, because I know when I first started this fic that I didn't know for sure, so I'll pen it here. This story won't have explicit slash. If it's even mentioned, it will be in passing, and likely along the lines of 'so-and-so was caught snogging thus-and-such' or 'Joe dated Bob.' I like to write true-to-life, and gay relationships are a fact of life, whether or not you like it, personally. (I also include it because there are so many stories out there, both in fandom and real-book-world wherein its ignored entirely, and my two best friends are a gay man and a person who is currently preparing for a transgender switch.)

This has been the single hardest chapter I've ever had to write; I lost my own father a mere two years ago, and my grandpa died only six months after that. I hope it was effective.


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer:** And it still doesn't belong to me.

**A/N:** I have no idea whether or not the UK had graduation ceremonies like we do in the US, so for now, please believe that they do. I think I'm going to stick with what I said in an earlier AN; think of this as the world between the real world and cannon for now, at least until such time as I re-obtain the internet at home and have the chance to go through and correct all the Americanisms.

Herein we will see some grieving, some healing, and some dissention being sowed in the DE ranks.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-One: Mending**

_15 May, 1998  
Harry,_

_I can't really tell you what to feel, so you'll have to figure out if you want that feeling to go away on your own. But, I __can__ tell you that it does come less and less often the more time there is between what happened and __now__. Whoever said that time heals was full of it. It never really __heals__, but eventually you'll see that you can and will continue living._

_I don't know if Hermione ever said, but I want to be a mediwizard when I get done with school. I want – no, that's not right. I __need__ to fix what happened to Ginny. I still feel as though what happened to her was partially my fault. If I'd spent more time with her and less time with my own friends, I might have been able to spot that she hadn't been herself. Merlin, I may have been able to keep her from writing in that damn diary altogether. _

_Now, like I said before, I know that what happened to you isn't at all the same, but it's similar. At least you __know__ there isn't any reason to hope that Allen will come back. That, in and of itself, is something of a comfort. Cold comfort, to be true, but still…_

_My previous offer still stands. If you ever need someone to yell at, you know where to find me._

_Hopefully see you soon,  
Ron_

Harry sighed and stared blankly at the ceiling of his room. The painted blue sky didn't do much to cheer him. In fact, not much seemed at all funny or enjoyable anymore. The only thing that seemed to capture his full attention was whenever he was working on detailing some idea or other for BKE, or in dealing with any of the real-life aspects of the business. Harry found himself guiltily longing for those moments, just for the chance to forget, even if only for a short while, that Allen was no longer available.

He made a split-second decision to go to Hogwarts – it was Saturday, and he should be able to find Ron and Hermione without too much difficulty. Though he'd told his godfather and Remus that he'd wanted to be alone for a while, he suddenly found that solitude was the _last_ thing he really wanted.

He grabbed his wand and a jacket on his way down to the parlor; the floo had _finally_ been connected the day before. He paused in the kitchen long enough to leave a message on the marker-board and heard Chad and Jenn's voices coming from the den.

"…and I _know_, Jenny, that you don't want…"

Harry ignored them, marginally happy – no, _relieved_ – that Jenn was talking to _someone_. He recalled that Chad had lost his own wife a couple of years prior, and so was likely to be one of the best people available to convince Jenn to get on with living. Harry grabbed some floo powder and threw it into the hearth, calling out, "Hogwarts."

The flames spit him out in the headmaster's office. "Mr. Potter," Dumbledore greeted him, "this is a surprise." The headmaster was careful to keep his tone neutral.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted anything," Harry replied, absently brushing soot off of his clothes. "Do you know where Ron is?"

Albus shook his head, "Alas, I fear not. Likely, though, he is either in the library, studying, or down by the lake with Miss Granger." Dumbledore motioned to the empty chairs facing his desk. "Won't you sit for a moment?"

Even though Harry didn't want to have to deal with the meddlesome old man any longer than he absolutely _had_ to, he took one of the chairs. "Did you need something?" Above all else he'd been feeling recently, he was weary down to his very marrow. He didn't have the energy to be combatant with the headmaster just then, and if the old man said something he didn't want to listen to, he could and _would_ leave.

"I merely wished to talk, Mr. Potter. Would you care for some tea or a snack?" Harry shook his head, but Albus conjured a tea service anyway. He sipped from a cream-colored cup before meeting Harry's gaze. "I realize, Mr. Potter, that I have erred most grievously in regards to you by placing you with your aunt and her family after your own parents had died." Harry opened his mouth to reply, but the headmaster cut him off with a gesture. "Even with my long life, and my experience in fighting the darker side of humanity, and all my magical power, I – though most fail to remember this – am merely _human_. I can and _do_ make mistakes. I also like to believe that the underlying spirit of humanity is essentially _good_. Honorable. Therefore, when your parents died, I had assumed that Petunia would be the _right_ person to raise you. You once asked why you were not left with Sirius… Well, aside from the fact that though he's one of my favorite students, he'd never been one to take responsibility all that seriously – if you'll pardon the expression. Also, at the time, everyone assumed that he had been your parents' secret-keeper. Since your parents had obviously been betrayed, we _all_ assumed that it had been he who had done so – your parents had told no one about the change in plans regarding their secret-keeper.

"You also once asked me why I didn't listen to Remus when he had returned and told me of your relatives' stance on magic. To be quite frank, Mr. Potter, I honestly didn't believe that anyone _would_ or _could_ be so callous as to hate a _child_ for something that they couldn't help being. I trusted, too strongly, I fear, in that belief I have that everyone is really _good_ at heart."

Rather than getting angry at the man, Harry was suddenly able to see his point of view. He still didn't like it, but he understood a little better exactly why he'd been subjected to the Dursleys. "Why didn't you ever check up on what was really going on there?" Harry's voice was soft and quiet as he asked the one question he hadn't thought to ask before now.

Dumbledore sighed, "Mainly because of the same reason, Mr. Potter. I trusted that Petunia would be able to set aside her hatred of all things magical when faced with the prospect of raising her infant nephew. I also had Arabella Figg move to your neighborhood to help keep an eye on things. Looking back on it now, though, I can acknowledge that this wasn't the best way to handle the situation. I can only ask that you forgive an old man's failings so that we may go forth without the burden of the past clouding things."

In the ensuing silence, Harry thought through everything the headmaster had revealed. _Put the past to rest, Harry,_ Allen's voice echoed in Harry's mind. _Put the past to rest, and see how things can build from here._ The corners of Harry's mouth pulled back in the tiniest of smiles. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before standing. "Thank you for clarifying this, sir." His voice lacked its customary undertone of sarcasm when speaking with Dumbledore. He offered his hand, "Fresh start?"

Albus smiled brightly, "Fresh start," he agreed.

Harry helped himself to the other cup of tea on the serving tray and sat back down. "I presume that you're aware of what I've had done to Voldemort?"

Albus chuckled, "Of course, Harry. Might I say that it is likely the most brilliant idea I think I have ever heard before? I do wonder, though, why you simply didn't decide to use something along the lines of a slow-acting poison – nobody would have blamed you for wanting to do so."

Harry shrugged, "I honestly never really thought about it. I had merely wanted a way to keep him busy and _not_ coming after me again. I hadn't really realized precisely what was going to happen, but I'd imagined that he would have spent some time in trying to break the spell. I hadn't counted on the fact that, from what Professor Snape has told me, his followers don't realize it's a potion that's causing his hallucinations. Furthermore, I hadn't really expected the twins and Professor Snape to have been quite so… thorough in their endeavor, nor on Sirius, Remus, and Chad being quite so… vindictive in their additions to the hallucinations."

Dumbledore nodded, "I can see how they would be, though. Severus has always been rather competitive with his potions skills, and as such would have been wanting to prove to the Weasley twins that his superior experience in the field was more important than their unique ingenuity. On the twins' side, they would have wanted to make sure that their former professor saw that they were just as skilled as he in the experimental arena. I believe they concoct their own potions for pranks, yes?" Harry nodded. "So, even though they don't have the years of experience brewing stock potions or creating highly-specialized healing draughts that Severus boasts, they _are_ more familiar with finding the proper combinations of ingredients that will yield the result they are after with no unforeseen side effects."

Harry nodded again and sipped from his cup, "That's why I wanted the three of them working together."

"And insofar as Sirius, Remus, and Mr. Thomas are concerned, part of their viciousness in their contributions was likely a direct result of your recent 'visitation' with Voldemort."

Harry ceded the point, "Hadn't thought of it like that. If that _is_ the case, then I'm glad that Jenn wasn't involved."

The two of them talked more about the situation with the Dark Lord for a couple hours, both equally careful to avoid mentioning the Dursleys.

* * *

Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy was speaking with Barty Crouch in a well-warded corner of the Malfoy Library. A muggle psychology book lay on a table between them. "I would rather we exhaust the possibility of magical reasons before we start looking to other… _avenues_, Lucius."

Lucius sighed and nodded, "If Potter had been a well-trained auror, or even one of the spell-creators the Ministry likes to pretend doesn't exist, I would be inclined to agree with you, Barty. But, he's _not_. If rumor is to be believed, the boy didn't even know he was a wizard until last summer. There's just _no possible way_ he's the one to blame for our Lord's… _problem_."

Barty shook his head, "Not necessarily true, Lucius. If the kid had outside help, it's all too possible that he could, indeed, be responsible."

Lucius got up and began pacing. "No, Barty. I used a bloody pensieve to examine the duel in more detail. None of Potter's curses actually _hit_ our Lord, save for a single trip jinx – Merlin, of _all_ the spells being cast that night, the only ones I couldn't identify all of came from our Lord. Nothing Potter did that night could _be_ the cause of this."

"What of that golden dome that appeared?"

"I looked into that, as well. It would appear as though both Potter and our Lord have brother wands. That dome was what happens when brother wands end up linking during a duel. It's a priori incantatum effect in the extreme."

Barty deflated a little in his chair. He had been _sure_ that had been the source of the problem. "If it wasn't Potter, then could something have gone wrong with the resurrection spell?" He didn't _think_ that was the cause, as he had directed that ritual himself, but it _was_ a possibility.

Lucius stopped in his pacing. "Could be. Why don't we look into it, eh?"

* * *

Exiting the headmaster's office, Harry made his way through the school to the Great Hall. Dumbledore had mentioned that he was welcome to stay for dinner, and Harry likewise realized that he'd be able to find Ron at dinner without risking getting lost in the castle. Scanning the crowd of students from the doorway, Harry spotted Ron sitting between Hermione and a boy with sandy-blonde hair. Ignoring the looks that his jeans and jacket were garnering from some of the students, Harry wove through the crowd. He stopped just behind Ron and Hermione. "Hey, guys."

The both of them jumped a little and whirled around. Hermione smiled brightly and got up, "Hey, Harry." She motioned for the second-year who had been sitting next to her to move down a little.

"Harry," Ron greeted his friend. "What're you doing here?"

Harry sat in the empty spot between Ron and Hermione. "Got your letter, actually," Harry replied. "Thought I'd come and take you up on your offer. Got a bit sidetracked by the headmaster, otherwise I'd have found you earlier."

By unspoken agreement, Ron, Harry, and Hermione avoided talking about sensitive subjects until all three were nearly ready to leave dinner. They made small-talk while they ate, and failed to notice an ever-growing ring of silence surrounding them. It had begun with the second-year that Hermione had displaced recognizing the scar on Harry's forehead leaning across the table to ask a fifth-year if he was seeing things. From there, in groups of threes and fours, the student population of Hogwarts fell silent and began staring in Harry's direction.

"…and so Gryffindor got knocked out of running for the Quidditch… Cup… by… Hufflepuff…" Ron trailed off when he realized that his voice sounded a _lot_ louder than it should have. He blinked and looked around, which brought the current state of affairs to both Harry and Hermione's attention.

Harry hastily finished off his cup of tea – he hadn't been about to try _pumpkin juice_. "Um… You two about done?" he whispered.

Ron nodded, quickly forking the last of his chocolate cake into his mouth. Hermione cast a longing look at her éclair, they were her favorite sweet _and_ she'd missed lunch while studying. "Don't worry, 'Mione," Ron whispered around Harry. "Catch up when you're done."

"Where?" she asked, just as quietly.

The collective student body leaned forward as one, holding their breaths. Ron smiled a little. "You know where," he replied.

Hermione smirked and nodded. Ron got to his feet and led Harry out of the Great Hall. Just as the door closed behind them with a hollow bang, Ron turned to Harry. "Run!"

Harry had just enough time to ask, "Why?" before he could hear the distinctive sound of dozens, if not hundreds of pairs of feet heading towards the Great Hall doors. Realization dawning, he sprinted after Ron.

They ran through what seemed to Harry to be the majority of the school before Ron pulled him into the library. Harry had a moment to be grateful that he'd taken up jogging in the mornings, had he not, he would be distinctly out of breath just then. "Good evening, Madam Pince," Ron greeted the sour-faced witch sitting at a desk just inside the door.

"Good evening, Ronald. Who is your friend? I don't recall seeing him before." The librarian's voice was at odds with her unfriendly appearance, warm and welcoming.

"Harry Potter, ma'am," Ron replied. "Harry, this is Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter." Pince nodded in greeting.

Harry returned the nod, "Likewise."

"Could we use the study-room, ma'am?" Ron asked.

Madam Pince smiled, "Certainly, dears. Will you be expecting anyone else this evening?"

"Probably Hermione."

Pince nodded again, "Then it's all yours. Make sure you close it up again when you leave."

"Of course, ma'am." Ron led Harry to the furthest corner from the library door, and just as they got out of sight of said door, it opened and an excited voice asked if the librarian had seen Harry Potter come through. Ron smirked when Madam Pince replied that no one had been into the library at all since dinner had begun.

Ron pulled a thick, blue book off of a wall shelf, reached into the empty space it left, and pressed the stone behind the book's resting place. There was a slight grating noise followed by a metallic clicking before the entire shelf swung inwards a little. Ron pushed the hidden door open still further and motioned for Harry to follow. "Lumos," Ron said, closing the door behind them.

Candles burst into life, illuminating a small, comfortable room that was roughly the same size as Harry's bedroom. There was a thickly cushioned sofa, bracketed by a pair of overstuffed wingback armchairs, facing a fireplace. There was a stack of semicircular boards leaning at an angle in one corner. It took Harry a moment to recognize their function; they were lap-desks.

"Where are we?" he asked, watching Ron set the fireplace roaring with an incendio.

"This is the study-room for the Head Boy or Head Girl and their guests. Normally, I wouldn't be allowed to use this without Hermione here – she's Head Girl this year – but Pince likes me. Of course, she knows who _you_ are, too, and that we wouldn't be able to find a better place to talk without running the risk of the rest of the school finding out. I didn't think you'd want to be hounded for autographs," Ron flopped lazily on the sofa.

Harry took a seat in one of the wingback chairs. "Why a hidden room, though?"

Ron stretched a little, "Well, the Head Boy and Head Girl are responsible for organizing the prefect patrols, they're also supposed to be available to help any student that asks for it, along with a bunch of other responsibilities, but since the Heads are always seventh-years, they also need to be able to study for their NEWTs in peace. They can't be interrupted if the other students can't find them, now can they?"

Harry nodded, "Makes a surprising amount of sense."

"Now that we're no longer around the hoard, how are you _really_?"

Harry shrugged, "I can't rightly say… I mean, I'm sad, but there are moments where I find myself feeling guilty, too, and damned if I can explain _why_. And… There are times when I find myself getting so bloody _angry_ that I just want to throttle something!"

Ron nodded, "I know. Hell, I _still_ feel that way about Ginny."

"All I really know is that I loved Allen like a father, and that not having him here _hurts_. I keep wanting to ask him things, only to suddenly realize halfway to wherever he'd normally be, that he isn't _here_ to ask. I wanted to be able to have him at my commencement, to see _both_ him and Jenn sitting in the audience. I wanted to finish working on my truck with him, to be able to ask his advice about girls – heaven knows, I can't ask _Sirius_ about stuff like that, he'd be as likely to tell me the wrong stuff just as a prank as to tell me truly. I wanted to be able to discuss my future with him. And now… I _can't_." A heavy feeling settled in Harry's chest, making it hard for him to breathe. "He won't be there to watch me finish school, he won't know what scores I get on my NEWTs, he won't be able to meet any girlfriends I might bring home. He's not going to be able to sidetrack Jenn when I want to sneak out for the night. He's not going to be there…" Harry's voice cracked on the last word, and tears that had only ever made an appearance in the dark solitude of his bedroom surfaced.

Not knowing when or how it had happened, Harry found himself sitting next to Ron on the sofa when Hermione joined them an indeterminable amount of time later. In fact, he was leaning on Ron's shoulder, while Hermione rubbed small circles on his back. The tears he'd shed left a wet spot on Ron's robes. "Feeling better?" Hermione quietly asked.

Removing his blurred glasses, he took a moment to think before answering. After the lenses were polished clean on the hem of his t-shirt, he scrubbed his face off with his hands. Replacing the glasses on his face he answered, "Oddly enough… Yeah, I am." He grimaced at the mess he'd made of Ron's robes. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to turn into such a wet blanket…"

Ron shook his head, smiling. "Don't worry about it, mate. What're friends for?"

* * *

"I'm Henry the Eighth I am, Henry the Eighth I am, I am! I got married to the widow next door – she's been married seven times before…"

Voldemort wasn't sure what had happened to the plush _things_ that had been following him for the last couple of days, but he was grateful that they were gone. In their place was what seemed to be a quartet of lumberjacks – only they were wearing lingerie under their flannel shirts (which were unbuttoned to display this fact.) The one in the red-and-black checkered shirt (with a neon pink bra) was currently singing while the other three clapped in time to the music. The one in the yellow-and-red checked shirt (with a red bra) had just finished up with a horribly long-winded song that the lumberjack who was wearing a fishnet body-stocking under his blue-and-green checked shirt had announced was entitled 'Found a Peanut.'

Voldemort had been a full two weeks without any sort of sleep. His waxy white skin was now sporting a bluish pallor, and he couldn't help but hear some of his more foolishly brave Death Eaters comment that he was starting to look more like Death and less like a Dark Lord. In all honesty, Voldemort just couldn't dredge up enough enthusiasm to care what they were saying, let alone _curse_ them for it. He blearily stumbled through Malfoy Manor until he located Lucius just outside the man's private study.

Lucius bowed low, "My Lord."

To Lucius' surprise, the Dark Lord ignored him in favor of shambling further along the corridor. Lucius heard him humming under his breath. The song was a familiar tune, one that Lucius had once killed a house-elf for singing – repeatedly – in his presence many years earlier. _And I believe _now_ would be the time to start worrying_, he thought.

* * *

On Wednesday, May twentieth, Severus had to restrain the urge to laugh maniacally as he strode through the empty corridors of Hogwarts. It was getting close to midnight, and only the most foolish of students would even be _thinking_ of being out of bed so close to the end-of-year exams. As it was, had any students been present, they likely would have voluntarily submitted themselves to the tender mercies of Madam Pomfrey for Severus-I-can-wilt-a-bloody-_tree_-with-my-glare-Snape was _grinning_. It wasn't an ordinary grin, either, but one of those manic grins which causes an observer to question the sanity of the person sporting such an expression. Closer observation would reveal that there was something of a satisfied feline expression lurking about his eyes, as well as an unidentifiable air in his posture that belied pride, amusement, and no little amount of self-satisfied _shock_.

"Evening, Hubert," the professor actually patted the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office on the head as he not-quite-skipped past. Once through the doors to the office proper, Severus' expression faltered momentarily when he saw that the headmaster wasn't currently in. "Albus! Get out here and bring some of that road-mud you claim is tea! Even some of your silly little candies. I've news! _Good_ news!"

There was a flushing noise, muffled by a door, and in short order, Dumbledore appeared, wearing his purple-and-green bathrobe with a matching cap that had a long tassel hanging down to the right side of his face. He stopped short and blinked for a moment at his potions professor. "Severus?" Albus' tone was wary. "Are you quite all right, my boy?"

Severus merely nodded briefly, his expression not changing, before he started talking a mile a minute, nearly bouncing around the room in unchained glee. "It's working, Albus! It's actually bloody _working_! That kid's a bloody _genius_! I admit, I'd thought it was merely a stopgap, a breather for the kid to get his bearings and not have to worry about the Dark Lord for a bit, especially since it was just a 'prank!' But I feel I have to take back everything I ever said about pranks! Look, Albus! Look!" He rolled back his left sleeve and thrust it under the headmaster's nose. "It's still there, sure, but it's _fading_! It's not been this faint since that Halloween! Malfoy says the Dark Lord hasn't slept at _all_ in _weeks_! He's losing his hold on his magic more and more every day! Even better, _no one suspects anything_! Lucius is absolutely _convinced_ the Dark Lord is suffering from muggle schizophrenia, Crouch is so adamant about it _not _being the fault of his little ritual that nearly everyone else is sure he's covering for something, and Bellatrix keeps muttering something about 'nargles,' whatever _those_ are. It's only a matter of time now!"

When Severus paused for breath, Albus took his chance to interject, "It does look promising, Severus, but are you _certain_ you're all right? You didn't get hit with a cheering charm? Drink something from your cabinets that _might_ have been mislabeled? Hit your head?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Albus. Who do you take me for? A first-year? It's just that bloody preposterous idea is _working_!" Severus started in again. Albus sighed and realized that unless he could slip Severus a calming draught, it was going to be a very _long_ night.

* * *

Somewhat buoyed by the news from Dumbledore – sent to him via owl – that his idea was proving to be more useful than he'd originally thought, Harry found himself standing before his easel, a blank canvas before him. He hadn't painted anything since the day before Allen had died, he'd been too lost in mourning, and not just a little scared of what his paints might show. However, what with the good news from Dumbledore – and Harry was marginally grateful that the old man was starting to actually correspond with _him_ and not passing messages through a third party – the unwavering support of his friends, and the fact that his brain had finally processed what Nigel had been talking about that day he'd stopped by, Harry felt a little more at ease with whatever his brushes might do to the canvas.

For the first time in weeks, he relaxed a little and let his hands spread whatever color they wished. Most of his mind was wondering just how he was going to complete both his final sculpture and final painting in time for the end of the year, which was only two and a half weeks away. Not to mention he had his final research project to complete for his physics class, a history project, a lengthy translation for his Latin course, _and_ he'd been informed the previous day that the final project for his Living Skills class was to plan a ruddy _wedding_. He had no idea how in the world he was going to get it all done before school ended.

And that was ignoring the fact that the week following the end of his muggle schooling Remus wanted him to sit the NEWTs at Hogwarts. Harry honestly didn't know if he was ready for that, for all that the professors who had been helping him said that he was. He spared a moment to be grateful that Amelia had dumped him – he had quite enough on his plate, thank you very much, he didn't need the added headache of a girlfriend, too.

Pausing in his thoughts for a moment, he noticed what it was he was painting. A tiny, melancholy smile graced his face. Though it wasn't complete by any means, he could recognize the general shapes on the canvas. He opened a tube of brown and mixed a dab of yellow into it on his pallet. _Yeah, I know, Allen. You'd be laughing at me, and cracking jokes about how I can't sit still, and how if I had anything _less_ to do, I'd be going nutters from boredom._ His brush began filling in the hairline. _And you'd be right. I don't like not being busy. I feel useful when I'm busy. _Harry's little smile grew somewhat. _You were the same way, you know. Jenn is, too._

Though Harry still had bouts of depression and anger about Allen not being there for him anymore, over the course of the next few weeks, those times started coming farther apart, as his good memories of Allen took their places. Nigel's advice, that he be happy for whatever small portion of Allen that was still with him, was an idea Harry clung to fiercely.

He completed his sculpture for his 3-D art class during the weekend, using a large block of styrofoam and copious amounts of plaster to create a stylized representation of what could be either a lumos or a star at night. He'd spray-painted it a metallic bronze. His research paper for history took a little longer, requiring him to put in several hours at the library, but he managed to finish it, too, well before the due date. Since he'd opted to do his final project for physics on the principles of converting heat to electricity, the majority of it was a paper; the remainder – a practical demonstration thereof – took most of an afternoon to assemble, and when he'd finished setting up a miniature turbine generator over a Bunsen-burner, the light generated by the tiny bulb attached to the generator was outstripped by the light from the fire of the burner, and had led to Mr. Eindelberg commenting something to the effect of being grateful that the burner was on high enough to make sure the light was glowing.

Harry managed to come up with a shortcut for his Living Skills project that he hoped wouldn't cause him too much difficulty. He'd seen the girls in his class going completely bonkers over the project – and if one of them asked him his opinion on _this _color or _that _style of tuxedo, he was going to hex them, Statute of Secrecy be damned! He wasn't _about_ to dive into that much detail on the subject, and he further knew that even if his 'shortcut' failed abysmally, his grades in the class were sufficiently high enough that he'd still end up with a passing grade. Instead of planning his _own_ wedding – which the other two boys who shared his class were doing, albeit grudgingly and with far less care to the innumerable little details that the girls of the class were so gaga over – he invented an imaginary couple and had them elope. The entire project had taken him all of three hours of first researching legalities and prices online, and then organizing all the information into a plastic folder.

And so, with the last week of school looming before him, the only major project he had remaining was for his advanced two-dimensional art class. He had told Mr. Thatcher – the instructor for the class – that his theme would be 'family' back in April. He had no idea how to demonstrate that in paint, though. Part of his problem stemmed from the fact that Dudley's trial had begun the previous Thursday. Though normally, he would have been required to be present for the proceedings, Andie had managed to plead extenuating circumstances – what with the end of his schooling approaching so rapidly – and as such, he'd only had to be there for the first day. During the four hours he was in the court room, he had been surprised at the sheer _number_ of charges being filed against his cousin. Apparently, once word had gotten out that _Harry_ was pressing charges, a slew of others who had been bullied or beaten by Dudley had come forth.

Harry had the feeling that his cousin wasn't going to be out of prison for a very long time.

Shaking his head to bring his attention back to the problem at hand, Harry tapped his layout pencil agitatedly on a blank piece of sketch-paper while his mind dismissed one idea after another after another. When the bells rang to signal the end of class he was no closer to figuring out what to paint that he'd been when he sat down. He took the massive canvas that had been in Mr. Thatcher's storage closet home with him the weekend before his final week of school. Hopefully, inspiration would dawn.

* * *

Chad answered his cellular phone and winced once more at the thought of the bill that would be waiting for him when he finally returned home. "Chad Thomas speaking."

"Thomas, I know you're on vacation," Chad suppressed a groan. It was his boss – the chief of police. "But, we've got a situation."

Chad pulled a notebook that still had a couple of blank pages in it out of his briefcase and fished a pen out of his pocket. "How bad?" he asked, knowing that his boss would understand the unasked 'will I have to cut my time here short?'

"Very. We've got some nut out kidnapping and killing little kids. There've been four victims so far, ages from seven to nine, and _all_ of them were found in Central Park, dressed up like they were ready for Easter Sunday with their folks. We've got _no_ leads, nothing so much as a fiber or hair; the bastard's being careful."

"Hell," Chad breathed. "I _hate_ cases like this. Is he just killing them or is it worse than that?"

"Worse."

Chad let out a blistering oath that was sufficiently heated enough to peel paint. "Aside from where the bodies have been found, is there any real pattern to the victims?"

"Nothing concrete. All four are Caucasian, but there've been two boys and two girls. All four went to different schools, all four are from vastly different classes – the latest, one of the girls, was the daughter of a corporate exec, and the first was the only child of a woman who's been arrested twice for possession. The other two were the son of a pediatrician and the daughter of a television repairman. None of them are even from the same borough. We've got Manhattan, Staten Island, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. Two went to private school, the other two went to public."

"Damnit all to hell. Give me a day or two and keep me updated. In fact, email me the particulars of the file. I'll see about getting some work done en route. I'll let you know when I'm back."

The chief breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. You should be getting that file sometime in the next couple of hours." The call ended with the chief's customary lack of anything resembling a 'goodbye.'

Chad snapped his phone shut and set about clearing off Moody's table and sorting out what was and what wasn't his.

"Bad news?" Moody asked from the doorway.

Chad nodded, "I'm needed for a case back home. Some sicko's taken to raping and killing little kids."

Moody's expression darkened. "Merlin. And we think we've got problems…" Chad knew without asking that Moody meant wizards in general. "Best of luck to you, sonny. We've done about all we can on the Dark Lord issue anyway. All that needs now is time, if Snape is to be believed."

"I know. And if it weren't for that fact, I would be feeling _very_ torn right now." Chad finished sorting out which of the notes scattered across the kitchen had nothing to do with Voldemort and tucked them into his briefcase. The rest of them he stacked back in their haphazard piles.

"Drop back by before you leave." Moody ordered.

Chad nodded, "Planned to. Right now, though, I need to head for Jenn's place and hijack her computer long enough to get a plane out of Heathrow for the day after tomorrow. See you later."

Moody nodded and stepped out of the rushed profiler's way.

* * *

**A/N2:** It's another relatively short chapter, but compared to the last one, this one was infinitely easier to write. I know Snape's acting a little OOC in that one scene, but I point that out with Albus' comments. He's just shocked that the idea is working better than he thought it would, and for the first time since he took the Dark Mark, he's suddenly finding the idea of a world without Voldemort a distinct possibility. And yes, to Mercedes Lackey fans out there, I 'borrowed' from her short-story 'Last of the Season' for the case that calls Chad back to New York. (I should probably state that I'm not her, either, and as such _don't _own the story.) And yes, the lumberjacks were inspired by Monty Python – blame Sirius, those were all _his_ idea! (And no, I don't own Monty Python, either.)

Also, I feel obliged to point out that I've had this written for the better part of two weeks now, but have had a _hell_ of a time getting online to post!

Reviews are the antivenom that keeps my plot-snake from killing me. (Yeah, I know that most plots are bunnies, and that _is_ how this one started, but it's really getting too big to be considered a bunny anymore, wouldn't you agree?)


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer:** If it were mine, would I be writing fanfic?

**A/N:** My life, I think, was cursed by evil pixies when I was a baby, I'm sure. I seem to be under the 'May you live in interesting times' curse. What this means, for now at least, is that I'm getting ready to move from Iowa to New Mexico (I think mapquest said that it was in the 1500-mile range of distance, but I can't recall the specifics.) As you may imagine, I will be extraordinarily busy. My updates until I get moved are going to become even more sporadic… Sorry.

Since I still have no internet of my own, and consequently, no access to the Lexicon, I've no idea when Remus' birthday is, so I made something up.

Inside we will see some of Remus' past, Harry's final project for 2D Art, some DE intrigue, and we meet a Sirius Rumor.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Is it Plot Yet?**

Jennifer rolled over and stared at the empty side of her bed. Moonlight from the slightly-more-than-half full moon streaming through the gauzy white curtains made the room bright enough to see all the details she hadn't really wanted to acknowledge. She reached out a hand and laid it on the empty place where Allen should have been. It was cold. She couldn't lie to herself and pretend that he'd gotten up to get a drink or use the bathroom; the covers weren't even messed up on that side. She pulled the coverlet back and seized Allen's pillow, clutching it to her as she cried into it.

When the latest stream finally tapered off, she scrubbed a hand across her face and glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearing four in the morning. Knowing she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep again, she got out of bed, slipped into her old, fluffy bunny slippers and pulled a housecoat on over her nightgown.

Silently, she padded down the hall and made her way downstairs. Unsurprisingly, there was a dim light coming from the den. Her brother was obviously still awake, reading through the file his boss had emailed him earlier that day. She wasn't at all looking forward to him leaving. Without bothering with any lights – she'd lived in this house for going on thirty years, and the kitchen hadn't changed much in that time – Jenn headed for the stove.

"There's tea already made, Jenn," Remus' voice was a low rumble.

Somehow, Jenn wasn't at all surprised to find him up. She veered from her path and joined him in the dark, sitting at the table. Remus poured a cupful of tea and pushed it over to her. "Thanks," she murmured.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for several minutes before Remus spoke again. "I was six years old," he said, his voice still very low. "In fact, it was my sixth birthday… I had gotten a pup-tent as one of my gifts. My father helped me set it up in this little copse of trees not a hundred meters from our house – we lived out in the country, you see. Raised sheep. Anyway, I had a torch and my sleeping bag, and… Merlin, I can't believe I haven't thought of this in years, but I had my little teddy bear with me, too. I was convinced Boris – that was the bear's name – would keep me safe. My parents were muggles, so they didn't know about the very real dangers that would be attracted to a fledgling wizard. I remember liking the fact that it was a full moon; Mum had once told me that the silver moonlight would keep me safe.

"Turns out, she couldn't have been more wrong. I'd slept outside before, and wasn't scared. It was our back yard, after all. I sat outside watching for falling stars until Dad called out to me that it was getting late and I should go to sleep. I shouted back, 'Okay, Daddy! Goodnight!' and climbed into my sleeping bag in the tent, knowing that he'd be watching to make sure I did as I was told." Jenn was enthralled by the tale Remus was telling, and had to wonder how many people he'd told; it was obvious from his tone that it wasn't a story often told.

"I watched out of the tent-flap until all the lights were turned off in the house. I waited for a little bit, making sure that Mum and Dad had gone to bed and were asleep before leaving the tent again. I'd seen three falling stars so far and wanted to see if I could catch any more.

"I must have fallen asleep outside. I remember watching the sky for a while, and then the next thing I knew, there was this horrible, snarling growl. My arm felt like it was being torn off, which, I found out later, was the case. A beast had me in its jaws, and was trying to eat me.

"Terror the likes of which I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy consumed me. My magic, which had until that point lain dormant, sprang to life. I didn't know that was what had happened, all I knew at the time was that a bright, white light appeared out of nowhere and forced the monster away with a loud bang. Until I turned eleven and learned of the magical world, I thought it was an angel that saved me.

"The last thing I remember from that night was the sound of my father's shotgun and a noise that was half-howl, half-yelp. I woke up the next day in hospital. I was there a week, recovering from the attack. My shoulder was shredded, and bones had broken. To this day, I still have a metal pin in my arm-bone. I don't remember a whole lot about being in the hospital, other than my doctor said that I was healing faster than any of his other patients ever had.

"Mum and Dad had thought it was a feral dog that had attacked me. We didn't learn the real truth until the next month, the next full moon." Remus paused and refilled his teacup. "That first transformation made the night I was attacked seem pleasant in comparison. I never remember much about being the wolf, but I do remember most of that night.

"I'd gone to bed after brushing my teeth. Mum came in and read me a story, I complained to her that the cast on my arm was itchy, and she told me that the sooner I managed to fall asleep, the sooner it would stop itching. I'd been asleep for a couple of hours before the moon rose. My bedroom was on the eastern side of the house, and with June being such a fine month, the window was open and the curtains pulled back. When the light hit me, I awoke fully, aware of an intense pain coming from all over and a queer sensation of melting. I thought I was dying and cried out for my parents. The pain seemed to last forever, but couldn't have really been all that long, for Mum and Dad arrived just as the transformation was completing.

"I remember the shocked, horrified expressions on their faces as they realized just what was happening. As the last of the changes stilled, my human mind fell backwards, unable to stop the instincts of the wolf from surfacing. I could smell fear coming from them… It's hard to describe, but though I remember the night, I just… I don't really have the words to explain. They weren't Mum and Dad anymore – they were _prey_. I sprang for them, a hunting cry howling in the air, and Dad pulled Mum from the room, slamming the door on me.

"The door wasn't strong enough, though. I managed to break through it." Remus stopped, took several deep breaths, and then continued. "I very nearly killed both of them that night. There were several close-calls. I don't know how, but Dad managed to get a hold of his shotgun… He didn't miss… My own father _shot_ me, his own six year-old son!" Remus sniffled, and wiped traitorous tears away. "It didn't work, though. Wounds from external sources heal extraordinarily quickly in a werewolf, especially when in wolf form. The only lingering damage is that which is caused by the werewolf, himself.

"When the sun finally rose, I was exhausted. I remember that the change back to human was just as painful, just as intense, but this time, my parents stood watching from the doorway to our kitchen. Neither moved to comfort me, to see if I was all right." Remus' rumbling voice trailed off.

After a moment, Jenn said, "It must have been horrible."

Knowing that she wasn't commenting on the night he'd just described, Remus let out a mirthless little cough of laughter. "That's putting it mildly. Mum wasn't sure how to act around me any more. Dad… He… I don't really know what was going on in his head, but he acted like he hated me. He went to town that day and traded his shotgun for a rifle. Mum's silver-spoon collection disappeared from her display case in the dining room a couple of days later. I know he had bullets made… As an adult, I can understand the caution, but I'm still angry about it. From that night onwards, he didn't talk to me unless it was absolutely unavoidable."

"He'd resigned himself to having to kill you, Remus," Jenn said, her voice soft. "He probably thought that if he didn't show you any affection, he would be able to trick himself into thinking he didn't care for you. That way, if he had to kill you, he wouldn't feel as horrible about it."

"Perhaps," Remus allowed, "but it still hurt. They built a cage for me in the basement, so the terror of that first night never happened again. I was also told to never talk about my… problem to anyone. I went to primary school, hoping to find _someone_ who would talk to me. But, though they were muggles, the other kids and the teachers all felt uneasy around me. I never really had anyone, not even after I got to Hogwarts – not until my third year, at any rate.

"I think Mum and Dad were relieved about me going to Hogwarts, it meant that they didn't have to deal with me for nine or ten full moons out of a year. When we got my school supplies, I picked up a book on werewolves, hoping that maybe magic could cure me and we – my family, I mean – could go back to the way I remembered us being before I was bit. I was disappointed. Magic wouldn't be able to cure me. The book also said that werewolves were Dark creatures. Reading in my other schoolbooks convinced me that it was unlikely that going to Hogwarts was going to be any different than going to primary school had been.

"When I got to school, I was quiet. I stayed in the background. I watched everything, but never really participated. I studied, hopeful that something somewhere would give me a clue on how to cure myself. I spent the nights of the full moon in a building connected to the school grounds by means of a secret tunnel, guarded by a semi-sentient tree. I never really spoke with my dorm mates, even.

"You can imagine my surprise when, on the first night of third year, Sirius cornered me in our room. It was always Sirius, _always_ him, that bothered with talking to me. Peter was really shy, like most people assumed I was, and wouldn't have said 'boo' to a blank wall, let alone a ghost. James… he was always side-tracked. Planning pranks on Lily, on Snape, planning how to disappear into Hogsmeade for the day, how to cut class without the teachers realizing it. He and Harry have that much in common, at least – neither of them could stand to sit still for very long. Sirius, though… he was different. He was the only one of us four who wasn't an only child – his little brother started Hogwarts in our fourth year. He was the one who noticed things. A lot of the time, he'd point out to James that a particular prank wouldn't work because of this or that reason.

"He was the one who noticed that I always managed to get injured during the full moon, or that I was conveniently called away from school during those same times. That first night of third year, he cornered me in the common room after everyone else had gone to bed. He simply told me, 'I know what you are, Remus. Don't worry, though, I promise I won't tell anyone. I know you're not like how they're written about in books, else you wouldn't be here. I also have an idea, but I don't know if its possible yet. I might need to get James to help me on it… Do you want him to know, too? If not, it'll be harder getting his help… though I suppose I can always say it was for a prank.' I didn't know how to reply. I know I stopped breathing for a minute or two. When Sirius stopped speaking and actually caught sight of my face, he laughed and clasped a hand to my shoulder. 'Look, Remus,' he said, 'I can understand a little about what you must be going through. Your family probably doesn't pay you a whole lot of attention, right?' I think I must have nodded because he continued. 'I can understand that. Ever since I managed to get sorted into Gryffindor, my family hasn't been too thrilled with me, either.'

"I don't know how I managed it, but I got my throat to loosen enough to reply, 'A white sheep in the Black family, right?' It took Sirius nearly a half an hour to stop laughing at that.

"From that night onwards, Sirius was my friend. It took a little while for James to sit still long enough to listen to Sirius, but eventually he did. About a week before Christmas that year, Peter started hanging out with them when they were researching whatever idea Sirius had said he'd had. I didn't find out about it until the last full moon of fourth year. The three of them managed to become animagi so that they could keep me company.

"Suddenly, I was no longer alone in my world, watching things happen without me. I was now an active participant. The four of us remained the closest of friends until Lily finally realized what James' pranks against her were really about. When they got married, we added her to our little circle. I finally had a real family.

"And then the worst happened. Lily and James were killed, Sirius was insane and killed Peter, and I was alone again." Remus reached across the table and took Jenn's hand in his. "It was a miracle of the highest order that I got Sirius back, more than I'd ever thought possible, but I still remember those years without him and Peter and James and Lily." Remus could see that Jenn still didn't quite understand why he was telling her all this. "Jenn… One of the few universalities of humanity is loss… We all end up losing people who mean the world to us. The trick is making sure the ones still here, the ones who think _we_ are _their_ world, know we're still here for them. Harry thinks of you like a mother, you know, and he's been feeling rather lost without Allen here, too."

Jenn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I know I haven't been here for him, not as much as I should. It's just hard, you know?"

Remus nodded, "I know, Jenn. I know more than you will ever realize." He let go of her hand.

Jenn stood and took another deep breath. "I'm going to take a shower and get some breakfast made. Would you see if Chad wants any?"

Remus nodded and watched the older woman leave the room, a small smile quirking the corner of his lips. At least he'd managed to get through to her in a way that her brother had been unable.

* * *

Harry woke up almost a full half an hour before his alarm clock was set to go off. He realized why as soon as he was aware enough to identify the scent in the air. It was banana-nut muffins. Smiling to himself, he got out of bed. _Looks like Jenn's starting to pull herself together. I know that Remus can't cook to save his life and Chad's culinary experience is limited to microwaving TV dinners and frozen pizza._ Harry took a quick shower and got dressed in his school uniform. As it was Monday, June first, it was also the first day of the last week of his muggle schooling. Harry wasn't really looking forward to the week, but he was feeling a sort of queasy anticipation for the end of it.

He read through his history notes, focusing mainly on the last chapter or two they'd covered in class. He hadn't really been paying attention during the class, too many other things had been on his mind what with Allen's death and all, _and_ it was his weakest subject. When his clock said it was time for him to go down and eat, he packed his book bag and shouldered it. As he'd done every time he left his room since Dudley's attack on him and Amelia, he made sure his wand was secured in its holster on his forearm, hidden by his school blazer. His mobile phone was in his pocket, ringer on silent, because Andie had told him he may be called to come in to the courthouse to testify against his cousin at any time, but she had further said that she would try to postpone it as late as she could so that he might actually be done with his finals before he had to go in.

Entering the kitchen, he saw Chad and Remus having breakfast. There were indeed muffins, as well as waffles and bacon and eggs. Jenn was finishing up frying the last of the eggs at the stove. "Morning, Harry," she greeted him.

"Morning, Jenn," Harry replied, accepting the eggs she had transferred to a plate.

Their breakfast passed in idle chatter, during which Chad revealed that he'd have to leave the next day. Harry reassured the man that though his assistance had been invaluable, he didn't really need any further help on the matter. A subtle tension that had been knotting up the profiler's shoulders lessened at that.

Chad and Harry left at about the same time. As they were getting into their respective vehicles, Harry paused and hurried over to Chad. "Whacha need, Harry?"

Harry smiled, "I just wanted to thank you for all your help, and I don't just mean with the Voldemort-thing. I don't know if it was entirely you, but I'm really glad that Jenn seems to be pulling herself together."

Chad scoffed, "I don't think it was all me, but she's my sister. I couldn't _not_ help."

"Will I see you again before you leave?"

Chad nodded, "Likely. I've got a few last things to do today, but I'll be back here for dinner. You probably won't see me tomorrow, though. My flight's scheduled for seven in the morning."

"See you later, then."

Chad waived and backed out of the driveway as Harry hurried to Viridian and then to school.

During lunch, while he was rereading some of his Latin notes, Harry was suddenly struck with inspiration for his final project for his 2-D art class. Ignoring his sandwich and juice, he tore out a page from the back of his notebook and began sketching. He managed to finish the rough sketch just as the bells rang. Harry was suddenly grateful that it was finals week; it meant that there wouldn't be any homework, and he might have enough time to finish his painting by Friday and still manage to get in some last-minute cramming.

* * *

"Severus, my friend… Come in, come in. It doesn't do to linger in doorways." Lucius smiled at Severus though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Lucius," Severus nodded in greeting. "Have you any news on our Lord?" he asked, stepping fully into Malfoy's private office.

Lucius stood and walked to a cupboard-bar, "Have a seat, Severus. Care for a nightcap?"

Though Severus hated the dance of formalities that Malfoy enjoyed, he replied with, "Brandy, please."

Lucius poured two snifters of the amber liquor, handed one to Severus, and returned to his seat in the large leather desk-chair. He took a lingering swallow before meeting Severus' gaze over the glass. "Our Lord is declining," he stated, somewhat bluntly.

Knowing that the situation must indeed be dire for Malfoy to have skipped so completely the hour or so of inane chatter before getting to the point, Severus wasn't sure how to respond. He could see worry and an anxiousness flickering across the surface of Malfoy's eyes. Severus could understand the worry but was at a loss to explain the anxiety. There was something else there, too, but it wasn't constant, nor was it close enough to the surface of the man's mind for Severus to easily read. "Has the research yielded no leads?"

Lucius shook his head and sat his brandy snifter on the desk blotter. "None whatsoever. We have managed, however, to rule out the possibility of Potter having cursed Him. The theory behind His rebirth and new physical body is sound, therefore, we no longer believe that to have cause His current… affliction. Medical scans are getting us nowhere, as we have no basis for comparison as to how His body _should_ read – there'sno precedent, we have no baseline for analysis. Every reading comes back with oddities."

"For example?" Severus prompted.

"His sinus cavity and the portion of his brain responsible for processing olfactory input is nearly twice the size of a normal wizard's. His ribcage isn't connected to the rest of His skeleton; only His musculature is holding it in place. And, according to Healer Salus, His blood is almost equal proportions of unicorn blood, human blood, and snake venom. The human blood, too, is _anything _but normal. He boasts a blood-type of AO with_ no _Rh factor – something that's completely against all laws of either nature_ or _magic. It shouldn't be possible. And then there's the fact that he's also got so much belladonna in his system that he shouldn't be _conscious_, let alone_ walking around _and_ seeing things_!" During Malfoy's explanation, Severus began to understand that the normally stoic man was barely holding onto his self-control. "I don't know what to do… We've ruled out just about everything we can, but the Dark Lord keeps getting further from us every day."

The pair sat in silence for several long minutes, during which the barest glimmer of an idea germinated in Severus' mind. If it worked… it could change _everything_. In his naturally low-pitched voice – the same voice that could keep a class silent without effort – he leaned towards Lucius. "May I ask a personal question, Lucius?"

Lucius shrugged, "We've been friends for nearly twenty years, Severus."

"Do you remember why you joined the Dark Lord?"

Lucius scoffed, "Of course I do."

"Remind me, then."

"Why? You joined for the same reasons, or so I assume."

Severus smirked a little, "Assume _nothing, _Lucius. Why did you join Him?"

Lucius picked up his forgotten brandy and swirled it between his palms. "Hmm… I suppose it was because I believed in his message, what he hoped to accomplish in the world, mostly. I will be the first to admit, though, that the promise of power was a factor in the decision, as well. I am a Slytherin and always will be."

Severus nodded, "I understand. Ambition rules us all… But, Lucius, do you also remember what His goals were?"

Lucius was no longer focusing on Severus. He'd turned his gaze to the brandy glowing in the flickering candlelight. "Yes… He wanted to remove muggle influence from our society. He said the first step was to eliminate the existing threat in the mudblood population."

"Do you know why that was his goal? We are so much more powerful than muggles… What do we have to fear from them?"

Lucius leveled an incredulous stare at Severus. "It's in all the history books, Severus. Don't tell me you've already forgotten the lectures from Binns on the muggles' witch-hunts throughout history. We may be more powerful than they, on an individual basis, but even the most powerful of us cannot hold forever against an army. They fear what they don't understand, and they don't understand magic – never have, and likely never will."

Severus suddenly seemingly jumped tracks, "Ignore for the moment, Lucius, that you owe your life to a muggle," Severus ignored Lucius' glare at the reminder and continued, "How does killing off mudbloods accomplish the safety of our world?"

"It further limits the involvement or knowledge of muggles in the affairs of our world. Severus, you _know_ this! Is there a bloody point to this? If so, could you please come to it before the night is over?"

If Severus had needed any other indication that Lucius was nearly at the end of his tether, that was it. "The point, my friend," he said, leaning even closer to Lucius' desk, "is merely this: What has the Dark Lord done in the last nineteen years that supports the goals you agreed to?"

Lucius' jaw dropped open as though he was about to reply, but snapped shut again with an audible click of teeth. Severus could tell he'd reached through and found the source of that unidentifiable flicker he'd noticed earlier. He sat his brandy snifter on the edge of Lucius' desk. "When – _if _you can answer that, Lucius, you know where to find me. I'll show myself out."

Severus held himself together until he reached the edge of the apparation boundary surrounding Hogwarts. Upon seeing the lights of the sleeping castle just ahead, Severus let go of his customary poise for a few minutes and allowed the complete ramifications of the gamble he'd just made to play out in his head. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit to being more scared than he'd ever been before, but he also felt truly _hopeful_ for… the first time in his life.

* * *

For the next three days, the second, third and fourth of June, Harry subsisted on barely three hours of sleep a night and managed to stay alert during the day through copious consumption of coffee – the 'high-octane' kind, as Allen would have called it, strong enough to nearly dissolve the cup. Chad and Harry spent about an hour talking the night before he left, and both promised to keep in touch. Between studying for his final exams, fleshing out more ideas for BKE, and working on his final project for 2D Art, Harry was lucky to get the amount of sleep he had, but just as the clock ticked over to Friday, June fifth, Harry put the finishing touches on the massive painting. His work for the night was not quite over, though. He borrowed Jenn's hairdryer and made sure the last layer of color would be dry enough for transport the next morning before finally succumbing to sleep. Luckily, the only thing he had to do that day was turn in his project, and then he could return home and go back to bed; all of his other tests had completed earlier in the week.

Friday morning was thankfully warm and, if not precisely sunny, dry. With Remus' help, Harry got the painting moved to school. He and Remus carried it to the Art room, where Mr. Thatcher greeted them from his cluttered desk. The man with the blonde ponytail and paint-spattered clothes stood up, his handmade coffee mug in hand, and smiled. "Let's see it, then."

Harry began unwrapping the brown paper that had protected his work en route. "This is Remus Lupin, Mr. Thatcher. Remus, this is Jacob Thatcher, my art instructor."

The two men nodded at each other, Mr. Thatcher too occupied with seeing the unveiling of his favorite student's work to greet Remus properly, and Remus' hands were full of paper and twine. As the last piece of brown paper was removed, Harry stepped back and watched his mentor and teacher look over the painting. He smiled a little at the awestruck look on Remus' face, but couldn't tell what Mr. Thatcher was thinking.

For all that Harry felt as though the painting had been rushed, Jacob Thatcher couldn't find any evidence of it. The canvass, approximately six feet wide and five and a half or so tall, was covered completely. He backed away from the painting and looked at it from most of the way across the room. He nodded to himself, it was as he'd thought, Harry had used a collage of smaller pictures to create a larger image. From across the room, Jacob could see that the canvas showed a close-up of Harry's eyes, glasses, hairline, and scar. Stepping closer to the image showed that the greater image consisted of dozens of portraits, animals, and other scenes. Jacob could recognize the man who had helped Harry carry in the work in several of the scenes, often with a taller man with blue eyes. He could also recognize Jennifer Kellerman and her late husband in several of the scenes. Each of the smaller scenes blended seamlessly with the ones that bordered it. It was a surprisingly sophisticated work for a student just finishing up secondary school.

With each minute that passed while Mr. Thatcher was examining his work, Harry became more nervous. After nearly twenty minutes of tense silence, he cleared his throat. "Um… Mr. Thatcher?"

A little startled by the sudden interruption, Jacob looked up. He had to grin a little at the obvious tension his star pupil was under. "Are you certain you won't reconsider going to university for art?"

Harry returned the grin, albeit a little weakly, "Yes, Mr. Thatcher. If I don't _have _to just to go, then I don't think I will. I like painting and drawing and whatnot, but I don't think I could make it my life."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Mr. Thatcher replied, "Well, Mr. Potter. If you've done even half so well in your other classes, I don't think you'll have much to worry about. I'm sure any university would be happy to have you join them."

"Thanks," Harry brightened somewhat.

Jacob nodded, "I mean it, Harry. You're going to be missed around here, I'm sure. In any case, you'll be going to the commencement ceremony next Friday?"

"Yes. It's at six o'clock, right?"

"That it is," Jacob replied, returning his gaze to the painting.

"See you later," Harry said before leaving. As he and Remus were making their way out of the unnaturally quiet school, Harry sighed. "I don't know if I'm happy about finally being done, or sad about it being over. I'd really started enjoying school this year, now that it wasn't just an escape from the Dursleys."

"I think I know how you feel, Harry," Remus responded. "I wasn't sure whether I should have felt happy about finishing Hogwarts, sad at leaving, or worried about being on my own."

* * *

That night, O'Malley's Pub was very nearly overflowing. Sirius, Remus, and Jenn invited Andie, Ted, and their daughter, as well as Mike, Bea, and Tim, Arthur and Molly, Ron, the twins, Hermione, and Nigel out to celebrate Harry finishing Stonewall. The only one they'd invited who'd declined was Hermione, but most who actually knew the girl understood that there wasn't much on planet Earth that would pull her from her books a scant two days before the beginning of her NEWTs. Everyone else, though, could come and this was in addition to the pub's normal workload of customers. It was loud, boisterous, and everyone was having a lot of fun. The twins had taken to toasting Harry every five minutes. Just as the pizzas were showing up, Sirius stood and made his own toast to his godson, "To Harry! May he make everyone's life as interesting as he's made mine!"

Sick of being toasted to, Harry stood and shook his head. He raised his glass and retorted with, "To absent friends – may we never forget them." The crowd stilled momentarily, before echoing Harry's toast, but the slightly somber feel didn't last long; it was a party, after all.

Everyone was clustered around several of the round tables in the middle of the pub, eating and drinking and chatting over the loud music from the jukebox in the corner. Andie and Ted were dancing, as were Mike and Bea and Tonks and Harry. Tonks' hair was currently striped horizontally red, yellow, and green. Remus thought she looked rather like a traffic light. Sirius and he were sitting at an otherwise empty table – they had been sharing with Ron and Harry, but Ron was now talking with the twins at the next table over. Sirius kept staring off into space. After the third time, Remus elbowed his friend. "What's wrong?"

Sirius shook his head, a mischievous grin on his face, "Nothing, Moony."

"Then why do you keep zoning out on me?"

Sirius said nothing, just inclined his head a little in the direction he'd been staring. Remus looked and saw just what had captured his best mate's attention. He snickered a little. "Go talk to her, Padfoot."

Sirius' blue eyes twinkled, "I think I will. Back later, Moony."

Remus could only laugh as he watched Sirius weave his way through the people and approach the woman who had been sitting alone in a corner booth. She was extremely pretty, with long curly dark hair that could have been either black or brown – the light was too low in the pub to tell for sure – olive skin, and very dark eyes. As Sirius neared, the rest of her face slowly became more clear. She had high cheekbones, full eyelashes, bright red, pouty lips, and a square jaw line. She was wearing a short-sleeved blouse with a deep V-cut neck, that hinted at cleavage, though didn't show any. It was the same bright red as her lipstick.

"Hi," Sirius greeted her, smiling broadly. "Care for a drink?"

The woman looked up and Sirius had the distinct impression she was dissecting him with her unblinking gaze. He was wearing his dragonhide boots – they looked enough like muggle attire to not be recognized as wizarding in origin – under a pair of black jeans. He was also wearing a blue sweater – at Jenn's insistence – over the Rolling Stones concert t-shirt he'd had since 1979. His hair was getting shaggy, but he hadn't had the chance to get it trimmed yet. She shrugged and gestured nonchalantly to the empty seat across from hers.

Sirius' smile broadened, though an observer wouldn't have been aware that it could. He slipped into the booth and flagged a waitress for refills. The harried waitress didn't take more than a minute to reappear with a new mug of beer for Sirius and a faintly pink-clear concoction in a glass chimney for the woman.

The woman took a sip of her drink and said, "Thanks," in a voice that carried a hint of an accent that Sirius couldn't readily identify. Waiting until Sirius had just lifted his own beer to his mouth, she continued, "Nice boots. Dragonhide, right?"

Sirius tried to gasp in surprise, and instead managed to inhale a large mouthful of beer. Coughing didn't help much, it just caused it to foam up into his sinuses, where it proceeded to _burn_, bringing tears to his eyes. Laughing, the woman handed him a couple of paper napkins. "Sorry," she said. "I couldn't resist."

After managing to clear most of his sinuses out, Sirius met the woman's eyes. "I'll get you for that," he said, his voice serious, but the laughter sparkling in his own eyes made the threat into little more than a playful promise.

The woman nodded in mock-severity. "I'm sure you will. Rumor Watson," she offered her hand.

Sirius took it, "Sirius Black."

Rumor nodded, this time thoughtfully. "I thought so. You were in the paper a few months back."

Sirius shrugged, "Didn't see it. Hopefully, it wasn't too bad."

Rumor laughed again, "Don't see how it could be."

"Where are you from?" Sirius asked, "I can't place your accent."

"I'm not surprised," she replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "In fact, I'd be more surprised if you'd known. I grew up in Morocco. Casablanca, to be precise."

"Oh," Sirius replied. "What brings you to Britain?"

"My father," she said with a little shake of her head. "He used to be the ambassador to Morocco, but decided to move back here after my mother died about ten years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sirius sipped his drink. "Did you not move with him?"

"No, I was still attending school at the time and was in the US. When I finished, I was offered a job translating for the government in Rabat. When they found out that my dad was the former ambassador, they decided to send me here to work in the embassy. Personally, I think they're trying to get Dad to move back to Morocco."

"Translating?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, I speak five languages; Berber, Spanish, French, Arabic, and English." Rumor was having fun watching her companion try to figure out what to ask next. She could tell he didn't quite know what to make of her.

"Wow. I only know English and a bit of Latin. I'm suitably impressed."

Shrugging, Rumor replied, "Well, it's not that hard to learn them when Mother was a Berber, Dad was English, and though the official language of Morocco is Arabic, more people tend to speak French in Casablanca. The only one I had to learn in school was Spanish."

"I don't think I could keep them straight," Sirius admitted.

"Keep what straight?" Harry suddenly appeared at their table.

"Languages, Harry." Sirius said. He sat his mug down. "Harry, this is Rumor Watson. Rumor, this is my godson, Harry Potter." Sirius surreptitiously watched Rumor's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes flicked to Harry's scar almost faster than Sirius could register the reaction.

"Pleased to meet you," she said.

Harry nodded to her before turning to Sirius again. "Bea and Jenn both are ready to go home; Ron has to get back to school, his _ride_ will be leaving in a couple of minutes. Arthur and Molly are also ready to leave. Tonks has to work tomorrow afternoon, and Ted has some meeting or other he needs to be at early tomorrow morning so they both need to go, too. I think Andie already left. Nigel said something about midnight bowling, and Mike and the twins want to go. Remus wants to, too, and I thought it sounded like fun."

Sirius chuckled, "Well… I'll be over in a tic." When Harry had returned to where the majority of the male contingent of the party had congregated, Sirius turned back to Rumor. "Want to come?"

Rumor quirked an eyebrow at Sirius' phrasing. "Sounds like fun," she replied.

Sirius could tell she wasn't talking about bowling and had to replay the last couple of exchanges in his mind. When it finally occurred to him, he laughed outright and got up from the booth. He held a hand out to Rumor, who accepted it and stood. She was wearing a flirty black skirt that came to just above her knees and red shoes that matched her top. She was only an inch or so shorter than Sirius.

As the pair approached the cluster of people making their goodbyes and paying their tabs, Nigel looked up and saw them first. He whistled in appreciation. Rumor smirked and sauntered up to him, "Yes, I know he's a handsome one, but I think he's more interested in me tonight."

Nigel was obviously a little taken aback. "I didn't … I'm not… I mean…" he sputtered.

Sirius barked out a laugh, as did Harry and Remus who were both close enough to hear what Rumor had said. "Come on, Nigel. Harry said something about midnight bowling?"

Nigel snapped his mouth shut before he could further embarrass himself and nodded. Before long, those who were interested in heading to the Sugar Cube were massed outside. It only took a couple of minutes to sort out who needed rides and with whom and before long the nine of them were continuing their evening.

* * *

**A/N2:** A couple of reviewers asked where they could find Mercedes Lackey's 'Last of the Season.' I know it was originally published in a magazine, but don't recall which one. I first read it in her collection of short stories entitled Werehunter. It's an excellent collection; mostly Sci-fi, some fantasy, and a couple of horror. Highly recommended.

In a few more chapters, I'll be coming to a natural break in the story-arc. I need to know if you, my wonderful readers, would prefer me to start the second segment of this rather lengthy tale as a second story or if I should continue onward with a single story.

Reviews are the greatest return one can receive on an investment of time and energy when writing fanfiction.


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer:** As you may realize by now, I don't own the HP world. I, like many of you, merely like to pretend I do.

**A/N:** You know, I think I should have moved earlier if this is the sort of writing I do when procrastinating about packing or doing other little getting-ready-to-move chores like finding a job down in NM, or helping Mom organize the auction to rid us of a helluva lot of meaningless brick-a-brack (you'd be shocked at the sheer amount of _stuff_ a person can accumulate over twenty-three years, fifteen of which spent at the same address.)

In a related note (it really _is_ related, even if it doesn't seem so) the dentist took one of my teeth on Monday; my jaw feels a helluva lot better than it has for six months - I think it affected my writing. Oh, well. Read onward and see for yourself.

The NEWTs and some interesting conversations.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Three: A Change in the Wind**

When he was twenty-three, Lucius Malfoy had worked for an entire three months to come up with a spell that would copy, exactly, the magical signature of any wizard in existence, provided that he had two things: a sample of their person, usually a hair or fingernail clipping, and a spare quill made from an augury feather. The spell took most of an entire night to cast, but when finished, the quill would then write in the handwriting of whoever its target was, and would leave the customary magical signature of that person behind on the parchment. Though he'd been very proud of his creation, Lucius had crafted the spell for a single purpose, and it would have gone against that purpose for the spell to come to light, and so he remained the only one to know of its existence.

He'd thought over what Severus had said during his visit on Monday, and it made sense. During the last nineteen years, the Dark Lord had somehow lost sight of his original goals and began focusing, instead, on the eradication of one halfblood child. A child who, Lucius had to admit, had managed to defeat the Dark Lord into a retreat that had lasted a full sixteen years. A child who then managed to hold his own in a duel with said Dark Lord mere months prior.

Lucius had to wonder just why the Dark Lord was so intent on the boy's destruction when he shouldn't have had to bother with the boy – what was so special about the kid? What did he have to do with eliminating the muggle threat from the wizarding world?

Lucius knew his answer without having to ask the question, _nothing_. He'd heard of the prophesy, of course – who hadn't? But the threat revealed in it was only against the Dark Lord – not the Cause. Lucius had to wonder just what the loss of the Dark Lord would do to the Cause, and again, he had his answer. _Nothing. I have more political pull than He ever wanted, the only thing I lack is the sheer numbers He has in us – the Death Eaters. All of us know of his current… _issues_… It wouldn't be difficult… _Lucius smiled to himself and leaned back in his comfortable chair._ No, not difficult at all… _

It didn't take long for the details of his plan to work themselves out. And so, at a quarter to ten in the evening, he sent an owl to his old friend, Severus.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Severus was having an interesting conversation with Potter. Harry had arrived shortly after dinner to spend the week in the castle, sitting his NEWTs with the seventh-year students. Since Harry wasn't a student, Albus had given him temporary quarters in the teacher's hall, directly across from Severus' own. The boy had knocked on his door at about eight o'clock with a worried expression. Knowing that he was stressing overmuch about the upcoming exams, Severus invited him in.

Now, it goes without saying that Severus Snape was an intensely private individual who jealously guarded his space, but he had also taught Potter occlumency. In so doing, he had been forced to spend inordinate amounts of time in the teen's mind – and, for the sake of honesty, Potter had likewise spent much time in his own. One cannot spend that much time immersed in another's thoughts without learning to like the person, and without realizing it at the time, Severus and Harry managed to form a relationship not unlike the one Severus shared with Albus. They knew each other quite well, and, in fact, knew things about each other that no one else did.

Severus knew, without a doubt, that Potter was as different from his father as Severus was from his own, in spite of their mutual uncanny likenesses to said fathers. Severus further knew the details of Harry's life with the Dursleys – even those details Harry hadn't been able to tell the social worker. Harry knew of Severus' tyrannical father's own cruelness. They knew of each other's mutual loathing of large crowds, their tea preferences – Severus, Darjeeling with just a hint of honey; Harry, earl grey with lemon – and their allergies, hopes, memories, dreams; the list went on and on.

So, when Harry had knocked, it would have gone more against Severus' character to leave the boy standing in the hall than to let him into his quarters.

The two discussed trivialities for a little while before Severus decided to ask about something he'd caught sight of during their last occlumency lesson. "What is 'Black Kettle Enterprises', Potter? It's been figuring largely in your thoughts for weeks now."

Harry grinned, "Maybe nothing. Maybe something more. At the very least, it gives me something to do for the summer."

Severus cocked an eyebrow, "Elucidate."

Harry chuckled, "Where do I begin?"

"How about with what this business's goals are?"

"Why? Are you looking for a different avenue of employment?"

"Just answer the question, Potter, or you can go back to pacing in your room, worrying about tomorrow."

"What, and leave you here to sulk and brood?"

"I don't _sulk_, Potter," Severus dryly replied. "Nor do I _brood_. I _was _reading before you knocked."

"Oh, fine," Harry mock-huffed. "BKE is… the launch-pad of what I hope will become a unified world."

"Still murky, Potter."

Grinning broadly, Harry continued, "It's going to work towards merging muggle technology with magic…" Harry trailed off as an idea hit him. "Just a tic, Snape," he said, getting a small memo book from his pocket and a pen. He scribbled furiously for a moment and then asked, "Can a reparo charm be made permanent, Snape?"

"The repairs made to an object under a reparo are permanent, Potter, until such time as it breaks again – you know that."

Harry shook his head, "Not what I meant. I mean, can a reparo be made to automatically repair the same object for… well, forever?"

Severus thought for a moment, "It can, but it depends on what the charm is set. It wouldn't work on organic matter – they decay naturally; and not even magic can withstand natural entropy. If it's set on something else, like metal or stone, it would work."

"Fantastic," Harry scribbled on the notepad once more.

He was tucking it back into his pocket when he caught sight of Severus' puzzled expression. Harry laughed, "Just an idea for free electricity… or nearly free, at least. Can't be totally free, there are overhead costs to consider, after all."

Severus decided to redirect the conversation back to his original point of interest before it was lost completely. "You were saying, Potter, about merging technology and magic?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. I know you know a bit about the muggle world – and I know you really _do_ want a copy of that potions computer program. You can see how well the technology would compliment magic and vice-versa. The only problem is getting it to all work together, which is what BKE is going to work towards."

"You do realize that there will be legal repercussions of tinkering with muggle objects and magic."

Harry shook his head, "Nope. Sorry to contradict you, sir, but I've got legal precedent on my side – wireless sets, to be precise. Not to mention I've also got Ted Tonks working for BKE. This isn't just some fly-by-night passing interest; I aim to do a whole lot more than merely make technomagery a possible occupation for future classes of Hogwarts."

"And what would that be, Potter?" Severus asked. He was finding the conversation fascinating.

"I aim to merge not only magic and technology, but the wizarding and muggle _worlds_," Harry bluntly stated.

Grateful he hadn't been drinking anything – he was sure he would have ended up wearing it – Severus goggled at Harry. "You can't be serious." Harry opened his mouth to reply, and Severus interrupted, "And if you're about to make another cheesy pun about your dogfather, you can just stop right there."

Harry snapped his mouth shut with an audible click of teeth, reevaluated what he was about to say, and tried again, "I'm not joking, Snape. I'm going to do it, whether or not people object. I don't care if it takes my whole life." Harry paused and smirked a little at the professor. "Look, we both know I don't just jump blindly into things. I'm going about this very carefully. If we – BKE – take things slowly, one step at a time, this _will_ work."

Severus and Harry fell into a companionable silence for several minutes, during which Severus' thoughts sped off into heretofore unexplored territory. Of all the people, all the students, he'd taught over the years, _none_ had _ever_ expressed the peculiar combination of passion and common sense he'd just seen from Potter. _He believes in himself,_ Severus realized, _to a level which others would find frightening. He believes that what he's aiming to do is for the good of humanity as a whole, not just wizards or muggles or even himself. _Severus felt a tiny prickling of gooseflesh on the back of his neck when he further realized that the one and only other time he'd ever witnessed that particular combination of self-confidence, faith, and charisma had been twenty years earlier. The name of the wizard who had shown those qualities had been 'Lord Voldemort'.

"Snape?" Harry interrupted the silence. "What's wrong? You look alarmed."

Unaware that his thoughts had shown themselves so blatantly, Severus schooled his features into his normal neutral expression. "Nothing," he replied with a little shake of his head. _Come off it, Severus. The boy is no more likely to turn into a dark lord than you are to start wearing pastels and proclaiming your love for all things fluffy._

"No, really. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Potter. My train of thought just took a disturbing track."

Letting the subject drop, Harry shrugged, "Oh. I know how that can be." Glancing at his watch, Harry noticed that it was nearing eleven o'clock. He grimaced and pulled himself off of Snape's sofa. "It's getting late, sir. If I expect to be able to sit those ruddy tests tomorrow, I should –"

A rapid flurry of knocks on Severus' windowpane interrupted him. Severus strode over to the curtained window, pushed the curtain aside, and opened the window. A large eagle-owl swooped into the room and landed on the coat rack near the door. It fixed its large eyes on Severus and hooted impatiently around the parchment envelope in its beak. Severus retrieved the letter from the bird and quickly opened it. He recognized the owl as belonging to Lucius Malfoy and was positive the letter had something to do with what he'd said the previous week.

He wasn't disappointed.

_7 June, 1998  
Severus,_

_I have thought long and hard on what you said Monday night and have come to the conclusion that you are correct. He hasn't done much – if anything – to further the Cause for the better part of two decades. It's made me wonder if the Cause was really his intention all along._

_I have an idea I would like to discuss with you in person. If you are able, please meet me at the Hogs' Head Thursday evening at seven o'clock. I know your duties should be finished by that time._

_L. Malfoy_

While Severus was reading, the owl had left. When he was done, he smirked at the parchment before replacing it in the envelope and setting it on the mantle of his fireplace. A slight cough from the vicinity of the door drew Severus' attention to the fact that Harry was still there. "Goodnight, Potter," he nodded to the teen.

"Goodnight, Snape." Harry wondered what was in the letter, but knew that if Severus wanted him to know, he'd tell him eventually. As it was, he really did need to be getting to bed. His first NEWT was scheduled for eight o'clock the following morning.

After Harry had left, Severus settled back into his chair near the fire. He stared at the flickering flames long into the night, amending the idea that had presented itself when he'd spoken with Malfoy on Monday. His conversation with Potter, as well, figured largely in his thoughts.

* * *

With his visit shortly after Allen's death fully in mind, Harry wore his father's invisibility cloak down to breakfast the next morning. He had to be extremely careful to avoid bumping into people, but he managed to locate Ron and Hermione with little difficulty. He leaned over Hermione's shoulder and whispered in her ear, "Hermione, it's me, Harry. Would you sneak a bacon-and-egg sandwich to me? I'll be waiting in the main hall, just inside the front doors. I'm using my dad's invisibility cloak – the last thing I need is to be followed like I was last time I was here."

Hermione nodded, seemingly at random, before reaching for some toast. Harry hurried out of the crowded Great Hall and lingered where he'd told Hermione to meet him. She arrived in short order, carrying two sandwiches and a couple of pieces of parchment. "I told everyone I was going to get in some last-minute studying," she said, handing him one of the sandwiches after he'd taken the cloak off. "I don't think Ron believed me, but, then again, he never does," she smiled a little.

Harry realized something at that quirky little grin. "You like him, don't you?" he asked, opening the door to Hogwarts' front stoop.

Hermione followed him and sat next to him on the stone stairs. "Is it that obvious?" she asked.

Harry shrugged, "Not really. I'm sure he doesn't know, if that's what's worrying you."

She sighed and took a bite of her sandwich. "It's not that I don't want him to know, it's more that I want him to figure it out on his own. I mean…" she trailed off. "I don't know _what_ I mean. Ignore me, Harry. Oh," she noticed the parchments she held in her other hand. "I have your testing schedule. Dumbledore gave it to me. I think he knew you were talking to me earlier."

"It wouldn't surprise me any," Harry dryly replied, taking the schedule from Hermione. "Looks like we've got potions and defense today. Written for the first and practical for the second." Harry folded the parchment up and tucked it in his pocket. The two ate their breakfasts in relative silence for several minutes. Harry, whose thoughts had been stuck on BKE since his conversation with Snape the night before, decided it was high-time to talk to his friend about it. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" she replied, brushing toast-crumbs off her robes.

"What did you have planned for the summer? I know you said you were interested in going into law or something similar… did you finalize those plans already?"

Hermione laughed, "You know, for all that I mapped out my Hogwarts career almost the moment I learned of the magical world, I never really planned much beyond it. I'm interested in so many things… I've had a hard time settling on any one area to continue in. I always told myself that there was plenty of time to decide on something, and now… here it is – NEWT week already, and I _still_ haven't made up my mind!"

Harry joined in on Hermione's laughter. "I think I know what you mean. I'd be something at a loose end, myself, if I hadn't had that idea about a magic-compatible computer. It opened up all sorts of possibilities. I still plan on getting a university education, of course, but I'm pretty sure its going to be as a part-time student."

"What possibilities?" Hermione asked, curiously.

Harry grinned, "I've started up a business to merge technology and magic."

Hermione's eyebrows raised. "I know, you've mentioned it before. Why bring it up now, though?"

Harry shrugged, "Well… it hasn't escaped my attention that you're good at organizing and whatnot. You even just admitted to not having anything planned... I'm sure we'd benefit of your assistance, if you wanted to help out."

"We?"

"Yeah, me, Sirius, Ron's dad, the twins, my friend, Nigel. There are a couple of others interested in possibly joining up, but that's it for now. If you wanted to, I'd be happy to have you onboard until you make up your mind."

Hermione smiled, revealing the braces on her teeth. "What would I do?"

Harry shrugged, "Don't really know. I know what I want the business to do, but we really don't have a whole lot of resources just yet – just the building and the cash."

"And what's the business's name again? I know you've told me before, but I can't seem to pull it up just now."

"Black Kettle Enterprises." Harry finished off his own sandwich. "Right now, you could declare yourself the head of just about any department except R&D – that's Arthur's arena."

"What about salary, benefits, perks, bonuses and all that?"

Harry chuckled, "I take it you're interested?"

Hermione shrugged, "Maybe. It would give me something to do until I figured out for sure what I wanted to do with my life."

Harry brushed off his hands, "Well, let's talk some more about it later this week. For now, though, I think we ought to be getting to that dratted test."

Hermione glanced at her watch, "Yes, we should."

Following Hermione through the halls of the castle, they eventually located the room that had been set aside for the written portions of the NEWTs. During the walk, Harry learned that the OWLs for the fifth-years were also being conducted that same week. Since there were, by default, more students in the fifth-year courses than there were at the seventh-year level, the Great Hall had been commandeered for the duration for OWL tests.

A man standing next to the classroom door checked a pocket watch and glanced down the hall. He smiled, "Good morning, Mr. Potter. It's good to see you again."

It took Harry a moment to place him, but then remembered that this was Aconite Bruce – the Head of the Department for Educational Standards, and the man who had proctored his OWLs back in late January. He still wore navy blue robes and sported a strangely ageless, leathery face with salt-and-pepper hair. "Good morning, Mr. Bruce."

"You two made it just in time. Hurry on in, the test will begin in about five minutes."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied as he and Hermione stepped around him and entered the class.

While the two of them passed row after row of nervous-looking students, about twenty in all, Hermione asked, "How do you know him?"

Harry slid into a desk in the back row of the class. "Oh, he proctored my OWLs at the Ministry."

Hermione took the last available seat to Harry's right. "Oh," was all she had time to say before the man entered the room and looked around.

"It appears as though we're all here on time for a change," he smiled reassuringly at everyone. "That's good. My name is Aconite Bruce and I'll be passing out the quills and tests in a moment, first I'll go over what you can expect this week. This will, no doubt, seem rather similar to your OWLs, and we do indeed use the same format." He leaned against the teacher's desk at the front of the room. "Written tests will be held in this room. See your testing schedule for when you are set for a particular written. Practical tests will be in the room down the hall, except for the potions practical, which will be held in the potions classroom on Wednesday morning.

"Now, the written half of these exams will be conducted using Ministry-approved anti-cheating quills, and I will warn you that anyone caught trying to cheat on these tests will be summarily ejected from the test and _permanently_ barred from ever sitting the test in the future. Also, anyone who feels physically ill, who feels as though they might not make it through the test without having their breakfasts come back for a second visit, should go see the school mediwitch before sitting the test. That said, anyone, who for _any reason_, feels that they are unable to sit this morning's test, please leave now. Arrangements will be made for you to sit the test later this evening."

Aconite went silent and waited. Three of the students got up and quietly left. Harry thought, _That's kind of neat, how he explained the repercussions of cheating and then said that people who felt sick shouldn't stay before letting them leave. Those two girls definitely looked like they'd not make it through the test, but the boy… He didn't appear as sick as the girls did. I wonder if he'll be heading to a loo instead of the hospital wing. He probably had a bunch of notes on a crib-sheet up his sleeve… maybe even written on his arm._

When the door had closed behind them, Aconite cleared his throat. "And now, we will begin." He picked up a box of plain, black quills and a thick stack of parchment scrolls. He walked among the desks and handed one test and quill to each student before returning to the front of the class. "The scroll will unroll when the time for the test begins. You will have three and one-half hours to complete the test. If you finish before time is called, leave your test on your desk with your quill and leave quietly." He walked around to the other side of the desk and took a seat. He picked up an hourglass, and turned it over, saying simply, "Begin." He then unfolded a newspaper and set to reading.

Harry looked down at his test and, smiling, set to work.

There were about a hundred questions; fifty multiple-choice, thirty true/false, and twenty essay. While thinking out the phrasing for one of the essay questions, Harry looked up. He noticed that though he could see where each of the other students sat, he couldn't make out any specific details of those students. With a small, silent laugh, he shook his head and put his quill back to the test at hand.

The test seemed to be inordinately easy, and Harry finished up an hour ahead of time. Instead of leaving, though, he took the time to go back over the test and fix a couple of his essay answers to read more clearly.

When Aconite called time, the rest of the students snapped into clarity. Looking over at Hermione, Harry had to snicker. She was looking decidedly frazzled and had a smear of ink crossing her right cheek. As the other students filed out of the room, Harry asked her, "So… how do you think you did?"

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know. Well enough, I hope."

"Time has been called," Aconite stated from where he still sat at the desk in the front of the class. "You are free to go."

Harry nodded, "I know, sir. I'm just waiting for the hall to clear a little. The last time I came here – to Hogwarts, that is – I was visiting a couple of friends of mine, and the whole bloody school got it into their heads to try following us. I'm just trying to avoid a repeat performance, sir."

Aconite nodded, seeing how the prospect of having the reclusive Boy-Who-Lived suddenly thrust in their midst could pose problematical to the teen's peace and quiet. "I understand, Mr. Potter. You may send your friend on ahead, I will see to it you arrive at your next test unmolested by slavering fans."

Hermione laughed, "I really should get going. I promised Ron I'd sit with him during lunch and quiz him over Defense."

"See you later, Hermione. Tell Ron I said 'hi,' and that you should both come by my room tonight and we can all study together."

Hermione smiled, "Sure thing, Harry. See you later."

When Hermione had left, Harry turned back to the proctor who cocked his head towards the tests and quills waiting on the desks. "You could make yourself useful, Mr. Potter, and collect those for me."

Harry gathered the tests and quills, depositing both on the proctor's desk. "Mr. Bruce, sir?"

"Yes?" Aconite looked up from his newspaper.

"I was wondering, sir…"

Aconite sat the paper aside, "Well, spit it out, Mr. Potter. I don't bite."

"Well, I was just curious as to why there's a Muggle Studies class when there isn't an equivalent for 'wizard studies.'"

"There is no need for such a class, Mr. Potter. Children who come from muggle families can see for themselves how our cultures are different." He smiled a little, "In fact, the only reason we have the Muggle Studies course available at this time is to help the children who come from wizarding families to understand their peers."

"Then why isn't it a required course?" Harry asked, lingering near the proctor's desk.

Aconite sighed, "In order to make a course required takes either a unanimous vote by the Hogwarts Board of Governors or a decree from the Minister of Magic. Since the majority of the Board of Governors are pureblood wizards, it's useless to hope they would make the course required. And as our current minister is a pathetic imbecile who believes anything his private advisors – which are all pureblood, themselves – tell him, I doubt that it would be decreed."

Harry echoed Aconite's sigh. "The more I hear of how things are actually run in the wizarding world the more frustrated I become."

Aconite shrugged, "There isn't much that can be done about it, in any case. It's simply how things are."

"But that's just it, sir. It doesn't _have_ to be this way."

Aconite coughed out a little laugh, "And who's going to change it? You?"

Harry shrugged, "Not by myself, even _I_ understand that much."

The proctor checked his pocket watch again, "It's coming up on lunch. You should be getting something to eat and going over some last-minute studying, I'm sure."

Harry shook his head, "I'm not hungry and if I don't know it by now, I never will. If you want me to go, just say so."

Aconite shook his head, "It's not that, Mr. Potter. I was merely reminding you of the time. I happen to agree with your viewpoint on the current state of things."

Harry pulled a chair from a nearby student desk over and sat. "How many muggle-raised kids come to Hogwarts every year?" he asked.

Aconite thought for a moment, "Roughly ten or so."

"And how many end up going to the smaller schools throughout Britain, or get private tutors?"

"A further five, more-or-less."

"So a total of about fifteen muggle-raised wizards enter the world every year, right?" Aconite nodded. "Of that fifteen, how many get jobs in the wizarding world and how many return to the muggle world?"

Aconite shrugged, "I'm not sure – that really isn't my area. I know that two or three take apprenticeships or continue on to a mastery program every year. I also know that a large portion – half, usually – request paperwork to go on to a muggle university."

"Would it be safe to assume that those who go on to uni don't return to the wizarding world when they're done?"

"Likely. Your point?"

Harry smiled a little, "It just seems to me that the wizarding world is losing a lot of possible talent every year when those muggle-raised wizards choose to return to the muggle world."

"We can't force them to stay," Aconite said, somewhat fatalistically. "It's their choice to return to the muggle world, just like it's a pureblood's choice to remain in the wizarding world."

"I doubt they see it that way, sir," Harry disagreed. "I've learned quite a lot about the wizarding world in the last year. Just sit and listen for a couple of minutes… and stop me if I'm wrong at any point." Aconite made a 'go on, I'm listening' gesture with his hand.

Harry cleared his throat and said, "I don't know how much you know of the muggle world, so just bear with me if I go over something you already know.

"Imagine yourself as an eleven year-old kid, muggle-born, of course. You go to primary school, spend time playing with your friends and do chores at home. The house you live in is normal for a muggle, meaning that all the lights are powered by electricity. The stove in the kitchen is electric, and there's a microwave and a refrigerator. Your parents drive to work every day or take the train or a bus. You use the telephone to talk to your friends when you're all at home, or if they're off on a holiday you send letters through the post. With me so far?"

Aconite nodded, "Yes."

"Good," Harry replied. "Now imagine that during the summer, you suddenly find out that there's this whole other world that you never thought existed. The magical world. Maybe you've read some fantasy stories or seen a movie or two, but that's not the same as suddenly being told that magic is really _real_, as being told that you're this mythical being – a _wizard_. Your entire world has to be reshaped.

"So, you come to Hogwarts and begin to learn magic. You also learn other things. The first thing you notice is that all the lighting is torches and candles – not the fluorescent light bulbs that you're familiar with from primary school. As the months and years pass, you also learn that wizards are mistrustful of muggle things – and that includes you. You get called names by the meanest of them, despite the fact that you're a wizard, too.

"You may not even realize it on a conscious level, but you know that you will never really fit in with the wizards who grew up in magical homes. You're never really comfortable in wizarding society, being more used to telephones than floo, more used to superglue than reparo charms. You further know that you will always face prejudice when dealing with the pureblooded portion of wizarding society. And so, when you finish your schooling, you make the decision to return to the muggle world – to the world you truly understand." Harry finished with, "So, you see, there really isn't much choice involved, sir."

"I already said that I agree with you, Mr. Potter. It is a lamentable state of affairs, but I fail to see how it can be corrected."

Harry leaned back a little in his chair, "Well, sir, if you can see there _is_ a problem, and I can see it, then others know it exists, too. 'The first step to reconciliation is recognition,' as my history teacher has said on more than one occasion."

"I stand by what I just said. I still don't see how recognizing that it's an issue _corrects_ it."

Harry shook his head, "It doesn't _correct_ it, but it is a beginning. Haven't you ever studied history?"

Aconite chuckled, "Not really. I couldn't stay awake."

Harry shared Aconite's smile. "I know, I know – I _still_ wonder how the authors of textbooks manage to render what should be the most exciting subject down until it's nothing more than a bunch of meaningless names and dates. But, if you know any history at all, you will see that any time there was a major issue, the first step taken in fixing it was realizing it was an issue. For example, it was the wasteful and lavish lifestyles of the French aristocracy that led to the people revolting. The only reason the wizarding world hasn't seen a similar revolution is because the muggle-borns simply choose not to live in a world that doesn't accept them."

"You still haven't gotten to how to fix the issue."

Harry chuckled, "Well… what if the magical world and the muggle world were one and the same?"

Aconite leaned forward, resting his head on his arm. "Okay, I'll play along. If there were no separations between the magical and muggle worlds, then muggle-born children would be raised knowing that there was a possibility they were wizards."

Harry nodded brightly, "Right. Furthermore, the 'pureblood' population would have to realize that regardless of whether someone is a wizard or a muggle, we're all _people_ first and foremost."

"Why do I get the feeling that you know something I don't?"

Harry leveled a wry grin at the proctor. "Because I probably do, sir. But, back to the point, the next step after recognition is _education_. An educated public is an informed public, and an informed public is more likely to be able to accept – or even _demand_ – radical changes in society. If you don't believe me, check a text on modern history, specifically the history of the US civil rights movement."

"I'll be sure to do so, Mr. Potter." Aconite wasn't sure what the teen had in mind, but he had the feeling that the boy was destined for something _big_. "As it stands, though, your next exam – I assume you _are_ testing in Defense?" Harry nodded. "Your next exam begins in fifteen minutes."

Harry stood and returned his borrowed chair to its proper place. "It was nice speaking with you, sir. I hope we will have the chance to do so again in the future."

"Likewise," Aconite replied, watching as Harry left the room, presumably to attend his next NEWT.

_I have to wonder what he was getting at with all that he said… I agree that the current state of things could stand to be adjusted. We _do_ lose quite a bit of talent to the muggle world every year. Unfortunately, what I told him about course changes here at Hogwarts remains true. It's not going to change, not without some major upheaval triggering things._ Aconite pushed the thoughts from his mind as the first of the students began arriving for the next written NEWT.

* * *

Harry's Defense practical went well, and afterwards, he, Hermione, and Ron all went to his room and studied together for the remainder of the tests they had to face that week, and had dinner in Harry's room. The rest of Harry's NEWT week followed a similar pattern, with his Arithmancy test and Charms practical on Tuesday, the Potions practical followed by the Ancient Runes test on Wednesday, the written portions of Defense and Transfiguration on Thursday, and the Charms written and practical Transfiguration tests on Friday.

The only real event of any note was Wednesday evening, after supper was over with. Professor McGonagall knocked on Harry's door. "Come in," Harry called out, knowing that the only students who knew he was staying in the castle were already in the room with him.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "And to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, as well."

"Hello, professor," Ron said at the same time Hermione said, "Good evening."

Returning her attention to Harry, she smiled. "It has not escaped my attention that your Transfiguration practical is Friday afternoon, Mr. Potter. I was wondering if you realized that our… side-project was eligible for an additional ten percent on the NEWT?"

Harry shook his head, "I wasn't aware of that, ma'am. I know I was getting really close…"

"Indeed," Minerva confirmed. "As I've the next few hours free, shall we see if we can remedy that before curfew?"

Harry grinned, "I'm sure we can, professor."

And so, over the course of the next three hours, with Ron and Hermione watching in fascination, Minerva coached Harry through to the successful completion of the animagus transformation.

Harry didn't remain in his form for long, as the hummingbird form wasn't suited to hysterical laughter, and the look on Ron's face had _definitely_ warranted hysterical laughter. Ron, though, was a good sport and had merely said, "Makes me wish I'd signed up for the additional lessons."

* * *

After he was finished with his Thursday tests, Harry was in the middle of reading through some of his BKE notes when there was a light knock on his door. He headed out to the sitting room and opened the door. "Hello, professor. What can I do for you?" he asked, stepping to the side to allow Severus entrance to his rooms.

"I merely wished to speak with you, Potter," Severus said, heading to an armchair set at a right angle to the small sofa by the fireplace.

Harry closed the door and followed the professor. "What about?" he asked, taking a seat on the sofa, setting his three-ring binder on a side-table.

"About the Dark Lord and your business goals," Severus replied somewhat enigmatically.

"I fail to see what the one has to do with the other," Harry replied, a confused expression on his face, even as he traced meaningless designs on the plain black binder.

Severus smirked a little, "Possibly more than you can imagine." He called for a house elf and ordered tea for the both of them before continuing. "I trust Albus has been keeping you informed as to the current state of the Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Turns out that little idea I'd had about keeping him busy was a bit more… thorough than anyone had reason to expect."

Severus nodded, "Precisely. The Dark Lord's condition has deteriorated to the point where house elves have difficulty pinpointing his location. His remaining control of his magic is tenuous at best, and the magic itself seems to be abandoning him."

"Hold up," Harry raised his hand to interrupt Snape. "'Abandoning'? You say that like magic has a mind of its own."

"Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't – I don't particularly wish to devolve into a philosophical debate. I know you enjoy the study of physics, so looking at it from that perspective, magic is a force not unlike gravity. It has various rules governing its existence. One of these rules is that it does not or _cannot_ manifest at a useable level in an individual who has completely lost touch with his own mind."

Harry nodded in understanding, "Rather like how electricity will always seek the ground."

Dismissing the comment with a waive of his hand, Severus continued, "Perhaps in order to fully appreciate what I'm about to say, I should first explain something of the Dark Lord's followers. With only a handful of exceptions who had joined simply to quench their lust for murder and mayhem, the followers of the Dark Lord joined for one simple reason – to eradicate the threat the muggle world poses over the wizarding world population."

A look of incredulous wonder surfaced on Harry's face and he began to chuckle. Severus quirked an eyebrow at the teen. "I see you've noticed for yourself the similarities between the Death Eaters' goals and your own with Black Kettle Enterprises, even if the execution of that plan was rather different than your own intentions."

Still snickering, Harry managed to get out, "I suppose this particular difference could be the poster-child of the old 'does the end justify the means?' argument."

"It would at that," Severus agreed as the house elf reappeared with their tea. The elf sat it on the coffee table before returning to the kitchens.

Harry added a lemon wedge to his earl grey. "Though an amusing correlation, sir, I'm still curious just why you felt the need to share this with me."

Severus took a sip of his own tea. Smirking, he replied, "Because of a conversation I had with Lucius Malfoy last week."

"Okay, sir, I'll bite. What conversation?"

"The one wherein I brought it to his attention that in the last twenty or so years, the Dark Lord hasn't done a single thing to further the cause for which the Death Eaters had joined."

There was a split second where confusion was prominent in Harry's expression before it morphed into surprise and settled from there into an expression Severus was tempted to label as 'satisfied cat watching a dust mote.' "If that's so, sir, then the possibilities are… _staggering_."

Severus nodded, "I see we're on the same page, Potter."

"I further wonder if any of the Death Eaters are aware that Voldemort's primary quest prior to my arrival on the scene had been immortality and _not_ the eradication of muggles?"

Severus' gaze narrowed. "And just how would you know that, Potter?"

"From Chad's case-file, sir. If you want to, I'll let you read it."

Severus glanced at his pocket watch. It was only three-thirty. "How long is it?"

"The entire file is pretty thick – a couple of thousand pages or so – but he gave me the same style of report he does for his boss back in New York, and _that's_ only twenty pages or so."

"Can you retrieve it quickly? This may alter my plans for the evening."

Harry nodded, "Sure. Is the floo in here hooked up, or do I have to go to the headmaster's office?"

"I don't know if this one is," he said, nodding in the direction of the fireplace, "but I do know that the one in my quarters is fully functional."

Setting his tea down, Severus stood and strode to the door, Harry in his wake. It was only fifteen minutes before they were back in their seats in Harry's room. Severus refilled his tea and swiftly set to reading the report.

_Voldemort (a.k.a. the Dark Lord, a.k.a. Tom Marvolo Riddle – henceforth referred to as 'the subject'), age 71…_

It only took Severus about ten minutes or so to read the report. When he finished, he leaned back in the chair and asked, "Do you mind if I have a copy of this report, Potter?"

Harry shook his head, "Not at all."

Severus aimed his wand at the stack of muggle computer print-offs bound in a small plastic folder. "Effingo," he intoned, and an identical folder appeared next to it, nearly knocking over Severus' tea.

"Nifty spell," Harry commented. "Would put copiers right out of business, though."

"Hardly," Severus replied. "The duplicate is merely temporary – it will last approximately three weeks or so, and then fade out of existence. Before that happens, though, I will transcribe its contents onto a parchment scroll."

"Oh," was Harry's less-than-spectacular reply before a thought surfaced. "Actually, sir, I think it would still be of use in the muggle world, after all… Do you have any idea the sheer amount of papers that end up being photocopied and summarily thrown away after only a few hours in any sort of corporate environment? Even with the advent of email, there's still literally _tons_ of paper-waste created every day in the muggle world."

"As I can neither confirm nor deny that claim, Potter, I will not comment on it." Severus handed Harry the original file and shrank his copy, placing it in his pocket. "How good are you at self-transfiguration?" Severus asked in a seemingly non-sequitor.

Slightly thrown, Harry smirked a little. "Good enough, I suppose. Why?"

"Because, Potter, I think you might wish to accompany me this evening, and I doubt that we would be best served if you appear as yourself."

"Huh? I don't follow."

"I'm meeting with Lucius tonight. I have the feeling he wants to further discuss what I'd pointed out to him last week."

Harry connected the dots and burst out laughing. "I have to wonder just what the rest of the world would think if they knew I was seriously considering this. I know you wouldn't have mentioned it if it weren't a distinct possibility."

"Precisely so, Potter."

"So, what time is your meeting? And where?"

"Seven o'clock, at the Hogs' Head in Hogsmeade."

Harry nodded, "I'll be there. I think it might be best if Malfoy doesn't know I'm there, at least until you've felt him out a little more, so I'll bring along the invisibility cloak."

"Likely a good plan. I'll leave you to your preparations, then." Severus stood and paused by the door. "I trust you will be able to let me know you're there without Lucius' notice?"

Harry nodded again, "Yeah. Don't jump when you feel me tap your shoulder."

* * *

About half an hour after the Potions Master had vacated Harry's room, Ron and Hermione arrived. "Merlin," Ron said, flopping on the sofa, "One more day, and it'll finally be _over_."

Hermione nodded and slumped in the armchair Severus had recently occupied. "My sentiments exactly."

Harry smiled, and said, "I don't know, it didn't seem all that bad to me," just to be contrary.

He ducked flying pillows aimed at his head. "You're barmy," Ron said as he flung a cushion.

"I know that," Harry replied, tossing the pillow back at him. "I didn't need it pointed out yet again." He then changed the subject. "So, you looking forward to your internship at Saint Mungo's?"

Ron turned an odd shade of green that clashed horribly with his hair. "I don't rightly know. I _want_ to do it, but that doesn't stop me from being terribly nervous. What if I make a mistake?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that why you're going into an apprenticeship instead of directly into opening your own practice?" Harry replied, "So that you learn _not_ to make mistakes?"

"And I doubt they'll let you work on people until you've shown some promise of knowing what you're doing," Hermione added.

Ron sighed, "I know. It still doesn't help the nerves, though. I'm trying not to think on it too much right now. Quick, someone give me something else to think about."

Harry grinned, "All right, how about the two of you come up with a decent disguise for me? I have a business meeting this evening, and I don't want the fact that I'm 'the Boy-Who-Lived' to get in the way. Might I also state as a sidebar that the attitude of awe and worship the wizarding world holds me in is not only completely irritating, but misplaced?"

"I've no doubt it's irritating, Harry," Hermione said, "but it's not really all that misplaced."

"Whatever," Harry replied, "I'm not going to argue right now."

"What sort of disguise did you want?" Ron asked. "And who will you be meeting with?"

"Just a possible investor," Harry replied, brushing the question aside. "And I don't really want to be at all recognizable as myself. I'd go in my animagus form, but since hummingbirds are incapable of speech, it would defeat the purpose."

"It would at that, mate," Ron chuckled. He looked over at Hermione. "Well, Miss I-Got-an-Outstanding-on-my-Transfiguration-OWL, whaddaya say?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, the fond smile somewhat canceling the exasperated air. She pulled her wand from where it had been holding her hair in a twisted knot at the back of her head. "Let's get to work."

Ron got them started by aiming his wand at Harry and saying, "Croceus coma."

"I don't think that particular shade of yellow is _human_ in origin, Ron," Hermione said, laughter present in her tone.

"Hang on a second," Harry said, pulling his own wand from its holster. Conjuring a mirror, he snickered at his reflection. His hair was now the precise shade of yellow normally found gracing the petals of buttercups.

Ron dramatically rolled up his sleeves, "Don't you worry, mate, I can fix this!" Harry was hard-pressed not to laugh at the melodramatic radio-announcer voice Ron had used. "Rectus croceus coma ab clementia!"

"I was unaware you paid that much attention to Lavender and Parvati, Ron," was Hermione's amused comment as Harry watched his hair color soften into a brassy, hay-colored blonde.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Two of the girls in Gryffindor," Hermione explained. "Neither one has a lick of sense, but if it's a grooming charm, they know every possible permutation of it."

Ron interrupted, "I could hardly ignore them; they usually ended up practicing their ruddy beauty charms less than ten feet from wherever I was trouncing someone at chess." He frowned, "I _still_ maintain that it was their fault I lost that one game to Mitch in fourth year."

"Can we leave off the bickering?" Harry said, gesturing to his reflection. "I still look like me. Granted, a _blonde_ me – which is ruddy odd, but still recognizably _me_."

"My turn," Hermione said, playfully shoving Ron out of the way. She tilted Harry's face up and turned it slightly from one side to the other. "Hmm… Cutis caligo." She rapped her wand on Harry's forehead, and he watched as his skin slowly darkened from his normal northern-European paleness to a skin tone more suited to the southern tips of Italy.

"Ooh, I've a thought," Ron stepped forward and pulled Harry's glasses off. "Perfectus visum."

"Cool!" Harry exclaimed as his blurry vision snapped into crystal clarity. "Is this one permanent?"

"Nope," Ron replied. "It'll last about twenty-four hours, though. And, I'll warn you that it can't be used often – it can cause permanent scarring to the lenses in your eyes. The book on healing charms it comes from says that it's best to use it sparingly, no more than once or twice a year."

"Damn," Harry said, a little sadly.

"There _are_ other ways to fix your eyesight, though," Ron mentioned. "It's just that I don't know how to do so just yet. They're notoriously tricky to correctly pull off, so I'm not even going to try. You don't want to end up blind."

Harry nodded. Hermione shook her head at the two boys. "Trust you two to get sidetracked into a medical discussion," she said. "Amoveoculus." Harry's eyes shifted from green to hazel to blue. "Subsisto," Hermione said once they'd reached a shade of dark blue that bordered on black.

Not to be outdone, Ron stepped forward again. "Visio novo."

Harry's almond-shaped eyes rounded slightly while his nose became slightly more pronounced and his jaw squared out more. "We're getting there," Harry said, commenting on the changes. He no longer looked like himself, rather more like a close relative.

"There's still the issue of your scar, though," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah… Curse scars don't like to be messed with," Ron added. "They don't transfigure and always show through a glamour."

"Hmm…" Harry muttered, "That could prove problematical. Ignore it for now; I'll think of something."

Ron returned his attention to Harry's hair. "This investor you're meeting with, he a pureblood or don't you know?"

"Yeah, he is. What's that to do with the price of tea in China?"

"Well, most of the purebloods out there favor a long hairstyle – don't ask me why, they just do."

Harry shrugged, "Have at it, mate."

"Comabire." Harry's hair grew rapidly, stopping at about waist-length. He was amused to note that the coloring charm didn't affect the new hair and that it was just as messy long as it was short. Ron huffed and reapplied the color.

Hermione then trimmed it to just past shoulder-length with a cutting charm and incendioed the trimmings. Wrinkling his nose at the smell, Harry asked, "Why'd you do that?"

"Just being cautious. You'd be surprised at the havoc a single hair can cause in the hands of an enemy."

Accepting the explanation, Harry returned to examining himself in the mirror. "Is there any way to make me look a little older?" He still looked like a teenager, and doubted that would do for the evening.

Hermione nodded, "Yes. How much older?"

Harry shrugged, "Adult, but not elderly."

"Aevum quindecim annus in solum imago."

Harry's reflection aged in the blink of an eye. He now appeared to be in his late thirties. "I _hope_ that one's not permanent," he joked, knowing from translating the incantation that it was merely an illusion.

"Of course not," Hermione grinned.

"Any idea what you're going to do about the scar?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah… In my art classes, my teacher always said that you should use mistakes to add character to the drawing – for my first two classes, he wouldn't allow the use of erasers. I figure that since I can't hide it, I'll draw attention to it."

"How?" Hermione asked. "I would think that would defeat the purpose of a disguise."

"Watch and learn," Harry said, rising from his seat and rummaging around in his overnight bag. He came up with a black permanent marker. Uncapping it, he stood in front of the mirror and quickly darkened the scar before adding additional lines at angles and curving down his temple. When he'd finished, the effect was similar to a tattoo of layered feathers. He then used his wand to adjust the black color to shades of blue, black, and red, the tones of which strengthened the illusion of a tattoo. Shoving the marker back into his bag, he turned. "Well, what do you think?"

"You definitely _don't_ look like you," was Ron's reply. Hermione merely applauded.

Checking his watch, Harry found that it was almost five o'clock. "Hate to cut this short, guys, but I really ought to get going so I can be ready for that meeting tonight."

"Don't forget – tomorrow, all the seventh-years are having a party at the Three Broomsticks," Hermione said. "I'm sure no one would mind if you tagged along."

"Thanks," Harry replied. "I don't know if I'll be able to go or not, but I'll try my best."

"Why not?" Ron questioned.

"Because my muggle school's commencement ceremony is tomorrow evening at six o'clock."

Ron brightened, "Well, that's all right then. The party at the Three Broomsticks isn't gonna start until eight, and it won't really get going until at least nine. It will probably keep on going until one or two, too."

"Then I'll likely put in an appearance," Harry grinned.

* * *

Severus had managed to secure an out of the way corner for his meeting with Lucius and was nursing a drink when he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Malfoy's late," said Potter's disembodied voice.

Severus nodded, "So I had noticed, Potter."

At that moment, the door to the Hogs' Head opened, revealing the elder Malfoy. He scanned the room with a dismissive gaze before spotting Severus in the far corner. Pausing at the bar long enough to obtain his own drink, he headed for the booth. "Good evening, Severus."

"To you as well, Lucius."

The two began chatting about insignificant things – the weather, Severus' disdain of his students, Ministry gossip. Harry was rapidly getting bored with the conversation when Severus asked, "Read anything interesting lately, Lucius?"

Lucius shook his head, "Not particularly. Why do you ask?"

Severus removed the copy of the Voldemort-summary he'd obtained from Harry earlier in the day from his pocket. "Because I came across a rather interesting case-file through an acquaintance."

"Oh?" Lucius looked somewhat interested. "Since when do you waste your valuable time on anything but your potions?"

Severus smirked, "In this case, Lucius, I couldn't resist. I thought you might find it… _enlightening_, so I brought it along." Lucius picked up the plastic file and opened it. It was almost comical how his jaw drooped a little at the first line in the summary. "I'll refill our drinks, Lucius." With that, Severus picked up their empty glasses and made a nearly imperceptible 'come with me' jerk of his head as he stood. He leisurely strolled up to the bar, whispering to Harry. "Thoughts?"

Even though he knew the professor couldn't see him, Harry smiled. "He's a politician. I don't trust him as far as I could throw him, but he _could_ be useful. Isn't he on the Hogwarts Board of Governors?"

"He is," Severus whispered just as they reached the bar. The old man behind the bar saw Severus was in no great rush and so finished taking an order from three men at the end of the bar before coming over to him.

"Refills?"

Severus nodded, and as the old man left to refresh the beverages he whispered to Harry, "A sensible approach when dealing with a Malfoy. Never forget that, Potter. He may be one of my friends, yet even _I_ don't fully _trust_ him."

"Understood. Oh, professor? When you finally get around to introducing me, I should warn you that I followed your advice and am in a disguise. I don't want who I really am cluttering up the issue."

"Again, a sensible approach." Severus didn't have time to add anything further as the barkeep had returned with their drinks. Slowly returning to the booth in the corner, he did manage to whisper, "I'd almost be tempted to gift Hufflepuff with points, alas, as you are not a student…"

Harry had to hold a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at that. He knew just how hard it was to get Snape to dole out points to any house other than Slytherin. Severus handed Lucius his Morgana Tea, and slid back into his seat across from him. Lucius murmured a "Thank you," seemingly out of sheer habit, his eyes never leaving the pages before him. Several minutes later, he closed the file and slid it back across the table, sipping thoughtfully from his drink. At long last, he merely said, "Fascinating," in a tone that hinted at anger, yet didn't fully reveal it.

"As I thought as well," Severus agreed.

"This will change my original plan, I believe…"

"And what was that?"

Lucius smiled, though there was little warmth in the expression. "During the… events… of my early twenties, I had developed something of the epitome of forgery charms. I had merely thought to stash Him somewhere and send missives from 'Him' using that charm to redirect us back to what I had assumed were His original goals." From the tone in his voice, there was no doubt in Harry's mind to which 'him' Lucius was referring.

"Hmm…" Severus said. "A workable plan, yet I may be able to suggest something even better."

Lucius' eyes flicked up from where they'd been studying his drink. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"May I present the owner of that case-study, Mr. Sophismata?"

Smirking at Severus' name choice, _'False conclusions', indeed!_ Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak, stuffing it into the pocket of the dark green robe he was wearing over his muggle suit. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Malfoy," he said, offering his hand.

Lucius shook Harry's hand. "Likewise, I'm sure. Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Harry smiled broadly, "I don't think so, Mr. Malfoy – I have spent several years away from the wizarding world of Britain. Had I met you before, I'm sure I would have remembered."

Unable to shake the feeling that the thirty-something man he'd just been introduced to was somehow familiar, he hazarded a guess based on the man's appearance. "Have you ever been to Sicily?"

"I may have been at one point," Harry didn't lie – he honestly had no idea where his parents may have gone on vacation with him before their deaths. The not-lie wasn't lost on Severus, who spared a moment to think, _I believe I can now see why Albus was so _insistent_ the boy was a Slytherin._

"That must be where I know you from, then," Lucius said, pleased with himself that he'd managed to find a plausible reason why the man was so familiar. "May I offer you a drink?" he asked while Harry pulled a chair from a nearby table over.

Harry shook his head, "That's all right, Mr. Malfoy. I don't mix alcohol with business."

"Understandable," Lucius admitted. "However, I was unaware this was a business meeting."

Harry nodded, a wry grin firmly in place. "To borrow your words, Mr. Malfoy, that is understandable, particularly since you've no idea what business I'm in."

Severus was enjoying the 'performance' and so remained mostly silent for the duration.

Lucius gestured to the file on the table, "I understand you are the owner of this rather… mesmerizing case-study. May I inquire how it came to be in your possession?"

"You may, but I'll go one better and even answer," Harry replied, his tone a little wry. "Upon returning to the wizarding world after having been gone the better part of sixteen years, I became intensely interested in one dark lord. I wanted to know the answer to the proverbial '_why?_' Why had this man done what he had? Where was he now? What were his plans?

"So, I hired an investigator to research the matter. The result is the folio you read through. Mind – that's simply a summary of the findings. The actual file is nearly a foot and a half thick."

"I would believe it," Lucius replied. "So, you have contacts in the MLE?"

Harry smirked, "No, not the MLE."

Lucius mentally shrugged, it had been worth a shot, though he knew the value of making sure one's sources remained anonymous. If he'd had any doubt before, he was now certain he was dealing with a fellow Slytherin. "What business do you deal in?" he asked, changing the subject.

"It's somewhat difficult to describe, Mr. Malfoy. You _could_ say I deal in the betterment of our society, though that doesn't quite fit. You _could_ also say that I deal in eliminating the threat of the muggle world on our society, though, that too, is somewhat misleading."

"I must admit to being intrigued, Mr. Sophismata."

"Please, call me James."

"As you wish, James."

"But, back to my business… My goals are simple; to see a _unified_ world before my death."

"Unified?" Lucius asked, puzzlement surfacing on his face in the form of a crease between his eyes.

Harry nodded, "Yes. _Unified_. It stands to reason that if there were no separations between the muggle and wizarding worlds, then there would be no reason for muggles to pose a threat."

"So you are suggesting that ten millennia of wizarding history just be ignored and for us all to live amongst the muggles?" Lucius' tone was incredulous.

Harry shook his head, "No, no, not at all, Mr. Malfoy. I am merely suggesting to _combine_,not _eradicate_, the cultures. To be able to read a _complete_ history of World War Two, for example. One that not only describes the problems the muggles had with Japan and Germany, but the hand that Grindelwald played in everything as well. To be able to use one's magic in a public place, _regardless_ of who might be present. To have wizards using muggle inventions like the computer and internet, and muggles buying food with freshness charms instead of the current custom of potentially dangerous chemical preservatives. Am I being clear, or have I lost you?"

"I understand _what_ you are saying, but I fail to see how this… 'unification' would remove the muggle threat from wizarding society. I would think that such a combination would drown the wizarding aspects of the world, and they would be forever lost."

Harry nodded, "In the current atmosphere, that would be correct. However, with the appropriate planning, that sort of circumstance _can_ and _will_ be avoided. Make no mistake, Mr. Malfoy, I plan to continue with this venture regardless of whether you choose to join forces with me or not. I'll be the first to admit that having you aboard would make things drastically easier, yet you are _not_ irreplaceable – as things stand, you are merely first in line."

Lucius was somewhat taken aback by James' forceful tone. It had been many years since anyone had stood up to him quite that way. He found it rather amusing, as well as a refreshing change from the normal simpering of the sycophants who attached themselves to him. "Let's hear this plan of yours, James," he said, though Harry could hear the 'sell me on your idea; I'm interested, but not yet convinced' that went unsaid.

Harry counted off on his fingers, "Recognition, education, execution, reconciliation. That's the short version of this plan. We've already reached the first step; we recognize that there _is_ a problem with how things are currently done. The second step of the plan – education – means teaching not only the muggles about wizards, but vice-versa. Now, even _I_ know this can't be done all at once, for _either_ side of the equation. Therefore, it will need to be done gradually."

"Why have I the feeling you've already mapped this out?"

"That would be because I have," Harry said matter-of-factly, his smile yet to fade. "Now, the equivalent of magic to the muggle world is science. If we could somehow relate the facts of magic to the muggle world in scientific terms, things on that side would go much smoother. Especially if we sell it as a 'new' technology, perhaps as an advancement in bio-physical science with a dash of psychological science thrown in for good measure.

"That would take care of step one on the muggle side. The wizarding side is somewhat easier in that they already know of the existence of the muggle world. What's needed here is a more thorough definition of what muggle life is _really_ like.

"I've had the somewhat dubious honor of reading through some of the current texts on the muggle world – and I use the term 'current' _very_ loosely in this case. I don't know, nor do I care, who wrote them, but they are _laughably_ out-of-date. One such text had the publication date of 1990, yet still stated that muggles commonly used strong seasoning to hide the flavor of rancid meat – it didn't mention the fact that muggles have a technology combining electricity and freon gas to create refrigeration; the same effect as freezing or cooling charms. Another text had several chapters devoted to muggle weaponry, specifically bows, crossbows, and swords. It didn't mention _guns_, let alone anything more advanced like satellite targeting or heat-seeking missiles.

"So, step one in the wizarding world would be to either find or write a decent Muggle Studies text – in conjunction with a few other minor changes to the current course requirements."

Severus, who was still amused at the entire conversation, was pleased to see that not even Harry's disguise could counter his natural charisma. He was even more pleased to see that Lucius was no more able to resist its effects than he was himself.

"What 'minor changes'?" Lucius asked.

"Making Muggle Studies a required course, starting at first year for all wizard-raised children, and creating a course detailing wizarding culture for all muggle-raised children," Harry replied, his tone revealing that he thought this the obvious course of action.

Lucius was silent for several minutes, during which he finished his drink. "You present a most intriguing possibility I'd never considered, James. May I think on this before giving you a reply?"

"Of course. When you make up your mind, the professor here," he nodded to Snape, "will know how to reach me."

"Certainly," Lucius said, standing up. "I shan't take more than a day or two." He turned to Severus, "Thank you, Severus, for bringing this to my attention. I'll be in touch."

"You're quite welcome, Lucius," Severus replied.

After Lucius had left, Harry returned his chair to the table he'd borrowed it from. "I'd hate to know what his reaction would have been had he known who I really was," Harry said, sliding into the booth.

"As would I, Potter," Severus quietly said, finishing his own drink. "As would I."

* * *

**A/N2:** And I think this is the longest chapter I've yet written for this particular fic… Heh, there's something to be said for procrastination after all.

Reviews are just the thing to take my mind off of the hassle of moving!


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse belongs to JKR et al. I also don't own 'Dookie,' that belongs to Green Day et al.

**A/N:** I'll reiterate that I've no clue if Brits have a graduation ceremony like the us, and since this particular world seems to be a weird blend of US, Britain, and cannon, I don't suppose it matters all that much.

Contents - Some Sirius/Rumor flirting, graduation, and a tiny bit of Voldie.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Filler**

"Is that a vintage Harley? Electra Glide, if I'm not mistaken. '77 or '78, right?" Rumor Watson was standing in Sirius' garage, practically salivating over his motorcycle.

Sirius laughed, "I'm impressed. Spot-on. She's a '77 – I bought her as a present to myself for managing to finish school."

"Why's that? Weren't your grades all that good?"

"No, just the opposite, in fact. It was more that I managed to _not_ get expelled… I wonder if the headmaster ever did like he threatened…?"

Rumor turned to face Sirius. "What did he threaten?"

Sirius shrugged, "Oh, just to give me my own plaque in the trophy room for the 'greatest number of detentions ever accumulated in Hogwarts' history'."

Snickering, Rumor asked, "Not much of a fan of the rules?"

Sirius shook his head, "Not in the slightest."

"Have to say I approve. I always thought that rules were simply guidelines; fine and dandy for the unwashed masses, yet something that can easily get in the way of jokes."

Sirius checked his wristwatch, "Well… Harry's commencement isn't for another three hours. Did you want a spot of tea?"

"Why not?" Rumor followed Sirius into the kitchen of his house.

While Sirius set to gathering a couple of mugs and a teapot, he asked, "So… Tell me more about that school you mentioned."

"Ecclesia Ludus? Not much to say. It was rather dull, to tell you the truth," Rumor began winding a lock of her curly, dark brown hair around and around one of her fingers while she talked. "Though, I have to say, it wasn't quite so dull when I was there."

Sirius added tea leaves to the porcelain pot and boiling water from the kettle. "That's what I wanted to hear more of," he smiled. "One can never have too many ideas for a good prank."

"Hear-hear!" Rumor applauded. "Finally someone who agrees with me! Anyway… Let's see… Oh, I know! The best prank I ever pulled – that I didn't get caught for, of course. I think I was thirteen or fourteen; I was still in Sister Sarah's math classes, so I couldn't have been any older. Hated the subject with a passion, you know. Never could get the numbers to behave how they were supposed to. Sister Sarah had said we were going to have a test that Friday. Now, the tests in Sister Sarah's class were never handed out. She always wrote them on the blackboard and we did the problems on our own paper. The night before the test, I broke into the school and collected all the chalk in the building – took me a good six hours to do so. I left a single message on all the blackboards when I left."

"What did it say?" Sirius poured two cups of tea.

Rumor cleared her throat, "'Knowledge is power, yet power corrupts, testing is evil, morally bankrupt, God and his angels, their vengeance erupts, 'cause you seek judgment, your ethics disrupt'."

Sirius nearly choked on his tea, "I'm more glad than ever I never had to go to a parochial school."

"I wish I could say the same," Rumor replied. "We never did have to do that test, though the poem didn't keep the sisters from giving us other tests. What about you? What's the best prank you ever pulled?"

"Hmm… I don't know… There have been so many…"

Rumor rolled her eyes, "Fine, which was your favorite?"

Sirius cracked a big grin, "Well, it's not quite as daring as your own tale, but it took a fair bit of planning."

Rumor leaned in, an eager expression on her face, "Do tell."

"April first, 1974 – my third year at Hogwarts. I had just turned fourteen. All year long, I'd been planning ahead. I got to know a couple of the school house-elves rather well, specifically Nodd and Owly – they worked in the Hogwarts' laundry. Anyway, I managed to convince them to switch all of the robes of the students in Slytherin with the robes from Hufflepuff."

"Is that all?"

Shaking his head, Sirius continued, "Of course not. I'd charmed all of them to have the proper crest, but that particular charm only lasts about six hours. So, by lunch, both houses were in the wrong robes."

Rumor shook her head, "Still doesn't seem like much."

"Ah, you say that _now_, but I hadn't yet mentioned that none of the students involved were aware of that fact."

Laughing, Rumor tossed her hair back over her shoulder, "I think, for the first time in my life, I'm rather jealous that I didn't inherit my parents' magical abilities."

Sirius shrugged, "Well, you don't seem to have done half-bad without it. Besides, magic seems to cause about as many problems as it creates."

"True, and being a cracmol I appear to have the best of both worlds at my fingertips – magical healing and I can run a microwave, to be precise. How many wizards out there can claim the same?"

Sirius smiled, "I really need to introduce you to my godson."

"I thought you already did, what with that night we all went bowling."

"True, but I don't think the two of you really got to talking much, did you?"

Rumor nodded. "Yeah. We talked a little, but not all that much. He seems like a good kid."

"That he is," Sirius replied, draining his cup before glancing at his watch again. "He should be back from Hogwarts in another hour or so."

The pair sat in silence for several minutes. Despite having known each other for a single, short week, they were comfortable with one another. Sirius didn't seem to mind that Rumor wasn't a witch, and Rumor didn't care that Sirius had spent a good portion of his life unjustly imprisoned. Their respective senses of humor complemented one another – something that Sirius felt was a big 'plus' in any girl he dated.

* * *

Harry tossed his duffel on his bed and glanced at his alarm clock. It was almost five-thirty. _Damnit, I knew I shouldn't have lingered so long at Hogwarts!_ He hurriedly dug out his blue suit and removed the graduation robes from their dry-cleaning bag. _No time for a shower… What was that cleaning charm again? Oh, yeah_, "Proluo."

He squirmed as the cleaning charm tickled across his skin and ruffled through his messy hair. It took mere minutes to get dressed, but when he glanced in the mirror in the bathroom, he stopped short. He looked as though he'd poked his finger in an electrical outlet, his hair was frizzed out and standing on end. "Jenn!"

At the panicked tone of his shout, Jennifer rushed up the stairs and skidded to a halt in the bathroom doorway, Remus close behind her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at Harry. Remus, though, had no such compunctions. He grinned, chuckled, and said, "Proluo, right?"

Not looking from the mirror, Harry simply said, "How do I _fix_ it?"

"Wet a comb," Remus replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "and then _use_ said comb."

Jenn sighed and pushed the werewolf out of the doorway, "Come on, Harry. Let's see if it can be fixed."

"Hurry," Harry replied, handing her the comb. "I'm supposed to be there at a quarter to, and it's just now," he checked his watch, "five-thirty-five."

Remus leaned against the open doorjamb, "And the thought you can apparate didn't cross your mind?"

"No jokes, Moony, or I'll make sure your birthday present is a rabies vaccine."

Needless to say, Remus shut up. Jenn managed to get Harry's hair somewhat presentable, that is, looking _normal_, if not _neat_. Harry supposed it didn't matter much, since the cap would cover his hair.

He apparated directly from the bathroom into the storage closet of the art room at Stonewall. Cracking the door open a tad, he verified that the classroom was empty before vacating his hiding place. The door to the class was locked, but a quick 'alohomora' rectified that situation. He even remembered to relock it once he was in the hallway.

Once he'd managed to make his way to the auditorium, time seemed to fly by. One moment, Harry was sitting with the rest of his class, listening to the opening speeches, the next, he was hearing his name called. Mere seconds later, he had his certificate of completion in hand, and was standing sandwiched between Sirius, Remus, and Jenn while Sirius' new girlfriend took their picture. What seemed to be yet a single moment after that, he was back home and Jenn was directing Sirius to hang the recently-magically-framed diploma over the fireplace in the living room. Harry almost didn't want to believe his watch when it said that it was nine o'clock. _How is it that three hours seemed to have slipped past in the blink of an eye?_

"So, Pup, you going to the party in Hogsmeade tonight?" Sirius asked.

Harry removed the silly, tasseled, flat cap and stared up at Sirius from his place on the sofa. "How'd you know about that?"

Sirius shrugged, and Remus replied, "It's sort of an unofficial tradition that all the seventh-years get together in Hogsmeade the last night of their NEWTs."

"'Sort of an unofficial tradition'?" Jenn asked. "Why isn't it an official one?"

"Well, since the seventh-years are all at least seventeen, they're legally adults in the wizarding world and can do as they please with their time as soon as their educations are completed – which, as it stands, is the moment the last NEWT is completed. Since the party doesn't need parental consent, there's really no reason to go and make it an official Hogwarts function. Had they made it so, I doubt it would be as popular, since the only time alcohol can be served during a school function is when it's during one of the infrequent international events." Remus joined Harry on the sofa. "Like a few years ago, Hogwarts hosted the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Representatives from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were present at the school for most of the year, and during the winter holiday, Hogwarts held a Yule Ball in honor of the guests."

"Oh," was Jenn's less-than-spectacular reply. "If you want to go, Harry, I don't mind. Just try to be home by dawn – you could use a night off."

Harry chuckled a little and nodded in agreement. "I agree, Jenn. Ron told me that the party should last until one or two. I'll floo if I'm going to be later than three, though." Harry climbed to his feet and smiled at Rumor, "It was nice seeing you again, Miss Watson. Maybe we'll have more time to talk in the future."

"I'd like that," Rumor replied before turning to Sirius. Harry heard her ask, "We still going to see 'Dark City' tonight?" as he headed upstairs to change out of his graduation ensemble.

About half an hour later, Harry arrived just outside the Three Broomsticks. It was quite obvious that there was a party going in full swing inside. Harry wondered for a moment whether he should of glamoured himself or simply brought along the invisibility cloak before shrugging and squaring his shoulders. He opened the door to the pub and ducked inside.

The pub wasn't as crowded as it could have been, but the forty or so students currently taking up tables or dancing were more than enough for Harry. He noticed Hermione sitting in a relatively quiet corner, watching the dancers while ensconced in a discussion with a boy he vaguely remembered being present for the potions practical NEWT, and that only because he'd secured the station closest to the door during the test.

"…but that negates the effect of transplanar synergy, Justin. Like I said in class three months ago, you just can't ignore the less pleasant aspects of runic power in order to achieve your goals."

The boy shrugged, "You still don't want to acknowledge that side-effects are unavoidable, but that brings me back to my original point, Hermione, it all boils down to the question of whether the side-effects are worth it. Would I trade some minor indigestion for a cure for the cold? Probably. Would I trade my sight for the same? Never."

Just before Harry managed to make it through the crowd, Ron appeared at the table with a couple of butterbeers. "I dunno, mate, on my scale, indigestion and the cold rank about the same. Still, you've got a point." He took a seat between the other boy and Hermione, handing Hermione one of the mugs. "Actually, you've both got a point. Transplanar synergy in healing spells is usually the difference between a true cure and merely easing the symptoms. There was an article… dunno which journal it was in, but I remember reading it for my apprenticeship essay back in January… Anyway, it said that there were a bunch of cases where merely treating the symptoms actually made the problem worse."

Curious, Harry edged closer to the small group at the table, simultaneously wondering what, precisely, they were talking about, and thanking the low lighting of the pub – no one had yet recognized him for who he was.

Ron took a big gulp of his drink and continued, "There were also references to the use of sacrificial magic in healing, specifically a case where a witch who had gone blind sacrificed her own left foot in order to see again, and a wizard who had crippled his wand-arm sacrificing his other arm to regenerate the crippled limb."

"I fail to see what that has to do with transplanar synergy," Justin replied.

"Well, it's moving an ailment from one part of you to another, right? And transplanar synergy is ensuring your body, mind, and magic are all working properly together, right? So, how can you say it's nothing to do with it?" Ron looked smug. Harry felt a little lost.

"All right, all right already," Justin grinned, "I concede. You win. I can't argue the both of you, even though I still think that it's little more than a convenient excuse," he held up his hands before either Ron or Hermione could argue, "that is, until further proof surfaces. As for right now, though, I think I'll go see if Mandy wants a dance or two with her old potions' partner."

Harry slipped into Justin's seat moments after the other boy vacated it. "What was that about and who is he?"

"Harry! Glad you could make it!" Hermione greeted him.

"Same here," Ron agreed. "That was Justin Finch-Fletchley. He's a Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw tendencies – rather like yourself, I'm sure – and we were just continuing an argument that's been ongoing since we started studying runic impacts on healing charms last year."

"And?" Harry prompted.

"And what?" Ron asked.

"Who won the argument?"

Hermione shook her head, "Justin just conceded, but it's really one of those arguments that can't be won, simply because there hasn't been enough research on it yet."

The three of them quickly settled into discussing other matters, and for the better part of an hour, Harry's presence at the party remained mostly unnoticed by the other students.

* * *

"Dookie is not seeing the power, Master," the house elf cringed, obviously expecting a sharp reprimand delivered through her master's ever-present snake-headed cane. Ergo, she was slightly confused when her master merely smiled and patted her absently on the head.

"Return to the kitchens, elf," he murmured quietly, still smiling to himself. Once the elf had disappeared, Lucius' smile broadened imperceptibly. "Well, well, well… My _Lord_, it appears as though you were not quite so infallible as you would have us believe," though his voice was quiet, it held a tone that belied his underlying amusement at the situation. "Brought low by nothing more than your own single-minded quest for power, and now that power has deserted you. So… sad."

"The bunnies! They did it!" the formerly-powerful Dark Lord was coiled in a corner, his voice shrilly calling out randomness at odd intervals.

"Hmm… What to do with you now, though?" Lucius asked, not expecting an answer. "I still believe you could serve a purpose… Perhaps I ought to create that quill, just as a precaution, mind. And what of after that? Well… I haven't fully decided yet. So, my _Lord_, this shan't take but a moment of your time," he leveled his wand at Voldemort and incanted a simple grooming charm designed to trim one's fingernails. He summoned the clippings and retreated to his study where a single black augury feather waited.

* * *

Despite the fact that Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione in an out-of-the-way corner of the Three Broomsticks, the knowledge that he was, indeed, at the party swept through the crowd. Now, as seventh years tend to be slightly less exuberant in their reactions than the average first year, no one had yet to approach the table, though almost everyone was watching them, at least part of the time.

As Harry and Hermione sat discussing hypothetical situations in which Ron wasn't interested, the redhead noticed the flickering gazes of his fellow students. He smiled a bit to himself when he realized that he'd noticed something Hermione hadn't.

"HEY!" an indignant shout cut through the general low buzz of dozens of conversations, "I said knock it off!"

"And what are you going to do if I don't, Longbottom?" Ron sighed as he recognized Draco Malfoy's voice.

Harry and Hermione ceased their conversation and looked up, even as the rest of the students followed suit. Ron climbed to his feet, and looked in the direction the shouting had come from. Being the tallest boy in their year, he could easily see over everyone. "What's going on, Ron?" Hermione quietly asked.

"Looks like Malfoy's got Nev at wandpoint again," Ron replied.

Hermione frowned, "One of these days, Nev's going to snap and Malfoy's going to regret it."

Ron nodded, "True that."

Harry only had half an ear on his friends' conversation. He'd climbed on top of his chair to see over the crowd. What he saw had him frowning. He recognized Draco Malfoy – despite the close resemblance the boy had to Lucius, Harry remembered quite clearly the day he'd levitated the blonde to Professor Snape's office. Malfoy was standing with one arm draped across the shoulders of a girl who, in Harry's opinion, strongly resembled one of Aunt Marge's prized bulldogs. Two bulky, slow-looking wizards were just behind him. All four had their wands out, though Malfoy was the only one aiming his at 'Nev', who was kneeling on the floor. The other boy was stunningly average-looking, with light brown hair that had probably been some shade of blonde when he was younger. He further had the slightly stretched look of someone who'd recently been on the receiving end of a growth spurt. His complexion was bright red, though Harry wasn't sure if that was the result of embarrassment or anger, Harry was tempted to lean towards the latter, though. "Isn't anyone going to do anything?" Harry asked his friends.

Hermione shook her head, "Not likely. No one likes to be on the receiving end of one of Malfoy's hexes."

Harry rolled his eyes and climbed off of the chair, _If you want something done, do it yourself._ He slipped through the crowd even as he heard Malfoy lazily incant, "Fodio. I asked you a question, squib! Fodio. Just – fodio – what – fodio – are – fodio – you – fodio – going – fodio – to – fodio – do – fodio – about – fodio – about – fodio – it?"

Harry growled a little under his breath. The spell Malfoy was using was the magical equivalent of someone poking another in the shoulder. "Hey, Malfoy!" he called out, stepping into the relatively clear area surrounding the blonde. Draco turned around, ready to hex the moron who'd interrupted him. He didn't have time.

Harry's right fist connected with Draco's nose, and there was a satisfying crunching noise. As the blonde's eyes rolled into his head and he slumped heavily in his girlfriend's arms, Harry muttered, "I hate bullies." He turned to the other boy and asked, "You all right?"

The other boy nodded and climbed to his feet. "Yeah. Thanks, I think."

That seemed to be the cue for the majority of the assembled students to break into applause. Harry ignored the ruckus as best he could and held his hand out to the other boy, "Harry Potter."

He nodded, "I know," and shook his hand. "Neville Longbottom."

"Pleased to meet you. Come on, let's go have a drink," Harry replied, maneuvering through the crowd, ignoring the pats on his back and shouts of 'he had it coming' and 'nice punch' et cetera. He and Neville quickly arrived back at Hermione and Ron's table. Though it took a while for the other students to go back to their party, eventually the four were left in peace. After chatting about nothing in particular for about an hour or so, during which time Harry had a couple of mildly alcoholic beverages, the music from the dancing area began to pull Harry's attention.

"If you're having that much trouble sitting still, Harry, why not go join the dancers?" Hermione asked when she noticed Harry bobbing his head along to the music.

Quaffing the last of his Gillywater, Harry stood and shrugged, "Why not?"

_Aside from the fact that these folks have grown up knowing about me, for the most part, this isn't all that different than the times I go clubbing with Tim and Nigel. Hmm… I'll have to make sure we bring Remus along the next time we go. I'm pretty sure he could do with a night out._ Spotting a girl wistfully watching the action on the dance floor, Harry headed in her direction. She was about three inches shorter than he was, with pretty chestnut hair that was cropped short and highly curly. She was wearing a wizarding t-shirt that cycled through several shades of blue and a pair of jeans. When Harry got a little closer, he saw that her eyes were a clear shade of sky blue, and that her face was oval-shaped and well-proportioned. Her eyes widened somewhat comically when she spotted him. "Hi," Harry said. "Did you want to dance?"

The girl opened her mouth twice before she could get her voice to work. "Y-You're asking _me_?"

Harry grinned and shook his head, "Not at all, I was asking the patch of wall you're leaning against."

Her face quickly cycled through disappointment, irritation, and anger before settling into a wry smile. "I'm Lisa Turpin."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said. "So…" he nodded towards the dancing. "Shall we?"

* * *

**A/N2:** This was going to be a longer chapter, but the upcoming stuff is going to take a while to map out properly. I thought y'all would want a short chapter to tide you over until the bigger one came out.

Thanks to all my reviewers! Long may you live and read!


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer:** Ain't mine.

**A/N:** Here's the long-awaited chapter!

Dudley gets what's coming to him. Ignore any Americanisms in what little I actually show of the courtroom. I don't think I've _ever_ seen the Brit equivalent of a courtroom drama, and as it's rather late (and I had to work all week after being gone on vacation for a full two weeks), not to mention I've been busy betaing a friend's first fanfic, I can't be buggered to look up proper Brit courtroom stuff. Sorry. As with most of my other Americanisms, when I either find the time or become filthy rich (and such no longer need to work), I'll go through and fix it.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Dealing with Dudley**

Monday, June 15 was appropriately dreary; chilly with a light rain that misted down over the greater London area, dousing outdoor smokers' cigarettes and moods indiscriminately. Harry's morning began earlier than he'd wanted, as he had received a voicemail the day before from Andie saying that he was needed to testify against Dudley and had to be at the court no later than nine, though she would prefer he be there by eight so she could go over a few details with him. All the while he was going through his morning routine, Harry wondered just what those details were.

He got his answer when he and Jenn greeted Andie on the courthouse steps. After showing Remus and Sirius where they could wait for the courtroom to open to spectators, Andie escorted them to a smallish private room containing a long table and several chairs. "Like I said in my message, Harry, we've got a couple of things we need to go over," Andie said, opening a manila file-folder as Jenn and Harry took seats across from her.

"Like what?" Harry asked. "It seems pretty straight-forward to me…"

Andie grimaced, "You'd think so, wouldn't you? However, there is a slight issue that's cropped up concerning Amelia White's testimony and your muggle hospital records."

Harry groaned aloud as he realized what the problem was. "Damnit. The records show me having a concussion, broken ribs, and a broken arm. I went out with Amelia barely a week after the concert and all I had then were some fading bruises. Dudley's defense is having a field day with that, isn't he?"

Andie nodded, "He did, indeed. However, I did manage to come up with a plausible excuse, especially since the breaks in your arm were so close to your wrist."

"What did you come up with?" Jenn asked.

"That Harry had likely caught a glimpse of his X-ray while in hospital and, not wanting to appear 'weak' in front of Amelia, had gotten rid of the cast, replacing it with a common splint-style brace that can be purchased in any sports equipment store. I further planted the idea that he made sure to take a higher-than-was-advised dose of painkiller just prior to the date," Andie returned her attention to Harry. "It really would have been much easier had you not taken her dancing that night, Harry."

Harry sighed, "I realize that _now_, but at the time, it sounded like fun. Hindsight's ever 20/20 though. Is this going to affect the outcome any?"

Andie shook her head, "Not likely. The jury's already heard from nearly twenty people who had been on the receiving end of Dudley's fists at one point or another, as well as a further group of people who know your cousin – teachers, his boxing coach, et cetera. There are only four names left on the list at this point: you, Sherri O'Brien, Christian Polkiss, and Anthony Spencer."

"I remember Sherri from school, and Christian is Piers' little brother, but who's the last?"

"He's a specialist in teenage psychology. Basically, he's going to confirm that Dudley's mental state is sufficient enough to warrant his being tried as an adult, that he knew the possible consequences of his actions whenever he started beating on someone. After today, the trial will be turned over to Dudley's defense."

"How long do you think that will take?"

Andie shook her head a little. "Not long. It's really only a token defense, particularly since Dudley pled 'not guilty' to all charges. In reality, the _only_ one who still thinks Dudley is going to escape scot-free _is_ Dudley."

Jenn smirked evilly. "So what type of sentence will he be looking forward to?"

"That's really up to the judge. Ackerson isn't as predictable as some of the other judges – he could decide to give Dudley the maximum sentence of twenty-five years. On the other hand, particularly since he's so young, Ackerson just may decide to sentence him to some form of rehabilitation program for the next few years – it all depends on his mood."

"How frustrating," Jenn muttered as Andie and Harry began discussing what Harry could expect in the court room that day.

* * *

Several hours later, Harry's testimony now but a tense memory, the courtroom awaited the judge's announcement. As everyone save Dudley himself had predicted, he had been found guilty of innumerable charges of assault, harassment, and even the charge of attempted murder against Harry. Somehow, despite his enormous bulk, Dudley managed to appear rather small and insignificant next to his lawyer.

After calling the court back to session following an hour-long break, Judge Ackerson cleared his throat and took a sip of water. Everyone present seemed to hold their breath, awaiting what the judge had to say. Without further preamble, Ackerson said, "Mr. Dursley." Dudley jumped a little. "While I would prefer to never see a youth in my courtroom, modern society dictates that it must be so. In the past, I have often been lenient to those young men and women who appear before me, in the hopes that they will see the error of their ways and reform themselves into becoming valuable members of society. Time and again, I have seen this philosophy upheld as juvenile miscreants, faced with severe prison time, changed their ways. I have also seen an equal measure of these children reappear in my court, mocking the very leniency I have shown them."

Harry mentally groaned, sure that Dudley was about to get a slap on the wrist.

"You have a lengthy history of violent behavior; that, taken in conjunction with the fact that you have never before been called on this behavior, makes me hesitant to accord you with a light sentence."

Harry mentally cheered.

"However, evidence points to much of this being the fault of your parents, and you are barely eighteen. I dislike seeing someone so young sent to prison."

The groan returned.

"Thus, I have, after lengthy deliberation, found what I hope to be a solution."

Harry's emotions felt a little like a yo-yo. He wasn't sure if he could tolerate another abrupt swing in any direction. So, he cleared his mind, and focused on what the judge said next.

"Mr. Dursley, the court hereby sentences you to seven years' house-arrest, during which time you are to seek medical and psychiatric counseling and gainful employment." Judge Ackerson banged his gavel. "Court dismissed."

* * *

**A/N2:** Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I was on vacation, and then I got caught up in betaing a friend's fic, and then there was some RL stuff to deal with in regards to moving… It's been hectic, to say the least.

Review please, and lemme know if this is going in the right direction.


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer:** Sigh. Must I say it again?

**A/N:** Yeah, I know the last chapter was a bit on the short side. Cest la vie, though. I had enough trouble with it how it stood, I wasn't about to try for another thousand words, even though I believe that more could have been said. Just a short warning for this chapter - there is _one_ use of a harsh cuss word herein. I, personally, don't believe it's enough to up the rating of the fic, especially since PG-13 movies are allowed to use the word once (in a non-sexual way) during the course of a film.

This could be considered a continuation of the previous chapter, but I don't consider it that way. This, I think, is also the second-to-last chapter for the first third of my planned story-arc, but I'm not completely positive on that yet.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Aftermath**

Marge Dursley was completely fed up with her brother's family. She had warned him when he married Petunia that he was making a poor decision, particularly after she found out about Petunia's sister. She had warned him that 'bad blood will out'. Did he listen? Not in the slightest. And now, look at them. Her brother and his wife were both in prison, and now she was expected to house their son for the next seven years! It was an outrage! But there _was_ something she could do about it; her nephew was, after all, only eight days shy of eighteen. It was high-time he learned to look after himself. Besides, Ripper wasn't fond of him.

As she hadn't chosen to attend Dudley's trial, she received a telephone call from the lawyer serving her nephew's defense. She told him, in no uncertain terms, precisely what the judge could do with his sentence. She further informed him that Dudley could pick up his possessions the following afternoon at precisely four o'clock. If he were any later, the entire lot would be chucked in the rubbish bin. Hanging up the telephone, Marge set to work boxing up Dudley's things.

* * *

Harry was upset with the judge's sentence for his cousin. _House arrest! Come on! That's like Dudley's dream come true! All the computer and television time he wants._ Harry sighed and poked his dinner disinterestedly. _The bloody fat oaf basically got nothing more than a seven-year pass to remain an uninteresting, bullying, couch-potato._

"Come on, Cub, it isn't as bad as all that," Remus reassured him, cutting another bite of stuffed pepper.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "These are the _best_." He was indicating the food, of course.

Jenn leveled a glare at Sirius that clearly said, "Shut up now before you gnaw your foot off."

Harry sighed again, "It's just that, when the jury said 'guilty on all charges', I sort of imagined that Dudley wouldn't get away with all he's done."

"Look on the bright side, Harry," Jenn replied, handing the bowl of mashed potatoes to Remus, "this will be on Dudley's permanent record. He'll likely have a hard time of getting a job for the rest of his life."

"But still…" Harry began, but was interrupted by the doorbell. "I'll get it," he said, setting his fork down and removing his napkin from his lap.

"Do you think –" Sirius started to say, but Harry's outraged shout cut him off.

"WHAT THE _FUCK_ ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

As one, Jenn, Remus, and Sirius scrambled to their feet and crowded into the entranceway by the front door.

Dudley Dursley stood there, looking completely miserable, flanked by his lawyer and a policeman. "Hullo, cousin," Dudley's voice was so soft that it could barely be heard.

Thomas Harvey, Dudley's lawyer, stepped forward. "Please, Mr. Potter, could I speak with you in private?"

"No, you may not," Harry replied. "Whatever you have to say can be said in front of my _real_ family."

"As you wish, Mr. Potter. May we come in, please?"

Jenn stepped forward, "Harry, let them in. Whatever they have to say, we'll work through it." As Harry stepped aside, Jenn introduced herself. "I'm Jennifer Kellerman. Come in and have a seat in the lounge."

Sirius and Remus exchanged a meaningful glance, and Remus ducked back into the kitchen to place preservation charms on dinner while Sirius followed the group of people into the living room. While he was in the kitchen, Remus conjured a plain tea service and quickly rejoined everyone.

Jennifer had taken a seat in one of the armchairs, Harvey had sat in the other. The policeman was standing in the corner nearest the door. Sirius was sitting next to Harry on the sofa. Remus sat the serving tray on the coffee table and took the remaining position on the couch. Dudley, downcast, was standing near the fireplace.

"What is this about?" Jenn asked Harvey.

The lawyer accepted a cup of tea from Remus. Before he could reply, though, Dudley spoke up, his tone still on the quiet side. "Aunt Marge kicked me out."

Harry looked at his cousin. "And that means _what_ to me?"

"It means, Mr. Potter," Harvey cut in, "that as of four o'clock this afternoon, my client has no residence in which to serve his sentence. Unless he is able to locate such a place within the next twenty-four hours, the remainder of his sentence – that is to say, the entirety thereof – will be in prison."

Harry smirked, "Couldn't have happened to anyone more deserving."

"Harry!" Jenn hissed. Though she agreed with him, now wasn't the time to vocalize those thoughts.

"No, Mrs. Kellerman," Dudley spoke again. "I… I think I know how Harry feels. Can't say that I blame him."

"Why come to me, Dudley? What were you hoping for?" Harry returned his gaze to his cousin.

Dudley slowly met Harry's eyes. "I… I don't have… anywhere else… to go. I don't want to go to prison… like Mum and Dad did."

Harry narrowed his eyes a little and really _looked_ at Dudley. His cousin was noticeably thinner than the last time Harry'd managed a good look at him, though still grossly fat. There were dark circles under his eyes, like he'd not been sleeping much or well. He seemed truly remorseful of what he'd done. Almost as though the thought had triggered it, Dudley spoke once more. "If it helps… I… I'm sorry. I can't say… I didn't mean all those things I did… but I can say I… that I… I'm sorry."

Harry stood up and walked over to the window. Glancing at Sirius, Remus, and Jenn, he understood that this was up to him. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out at the rapidly approaching twilight. At least, that was what everyone else assumed he was doing. Harry was, in actuality, watching the room's reflection. Particularly his cousin. He found it interesting to see that when he'd crossed his arms, Dudley seemed to assume the worst and his posture melted a little further.

Without turning from the window, Harry said, "You're not going to stay here, Dudley."

"Mr. Potter, I must protest –"

Harry interrupted Harvey by raising his hand in the universal 'just a moment' gesture. "I didn't say that I was sending him to prison, Mr. Harvey – even if that _is_ what he deserves. Dudley, the judge said that you would be under house arrest for a full seven years, right?"

Dudley nodded, "Yeah."

"He also said that you needed to seek medical and psychiatric counseling, right?"

Another nod, "Right."

"And he also said you were to locate a job, right?"

One last nod, "Yeah."

"This isn't going to be easy. Are you sure you want my 'help'?"

"Yes," Dudley's voice finally had something resembling volume, though it was still a far cry from his normal tone.

Harry turned around and faced Dudley. "Fine. I'll help you, though God only knows why."

Dudley then did something Harry couldn't have predicted. His cousin began to cry. "Th- thank you!"

Harry winced a little and gestured to the sofa. "Sit down before you fall down, Dudley. Like I said, you won't be staying _here_. I _do_ have another place where you can stay, but there's going to be some rules. We'll discuss those in a few minutes. For now, have some tea. I need to make a phone call." He looked to the others in the room. "Excuse me for a moment."

Harry retrieved his mobile from his pocket and headed into the back yard. He dialed Nigel's number and prayed the man was home. Nigel's answering machine picked up after two rings – Harry sighed in relief. Nigel was home, but screening calls. When he went out, his machine didn't pick up until five rings. "Nigel, it's Harry. Pick up the phone, it's important."

"Hi, boss. What's up?"

"It's a little complicated. Can you come over in… say ten minutes?"

"You know I can be there _now_. I _do_ know how to apparate."

Harry chuckled. "I know. I need the delay – we've got some muggle guests."

"Ah, say no more. I'm in the area, right?"

"Of course. Ten minutes?"

"Ten minutes," Nigel agreed and hung up.

Harry tucked the phone back into his pocket and returned to the living room. Answering Remus', Jenn's, and Sirius' questioning expressions, Harry said, "I called Nigel. He was in the neighborhood and should be here shortly." Moving a stack of phone books off of the piano bench, Harry sat down and addressed his cousin. "I said this wouldn't be easy. I mean that. I have some rules that I expect you to follow; if you don't I'll happily send you to prison. Understood?"

Dudley swallowed, "What rules?"

"Firstly, you will endeavor to be polite and respectful at all times – to _everyone_. I don't care how upset you might be or how bad a day you might have had, if you take it out on someone else, you will have shown me you weren't serious in asking for my help. Clear?"

"Yes. What else?"

"You will be staying in an apartment in a building downtown. As this is _my_ property, I expect your temper-tantrums to be limited to your own belongings; if you cause any damage to the property, you will pay to have the repairs done. If this becomes a commonplace occurrence, you will no longer have the privilege of living there. Clear?"

"Yes."

"We both know you were ordered to seek counseling, however I know that seeking it on a court's order and actually following the advice given are two separate and unrelated things. I will expect you to listen to and follow the advice of both your medical and psychiatric doctors. You will make a conscious effort to better yourself. Clear?"

"Yes."

"Did you actually manage to finish school, Dudley?" Harry asked.

Dudley bit his lip and shook his head.

"In that case, I will expect you to complete your secondary education. I'm sure something can be worked out over the internet. I refuse to employ someone who hasn't finished at least that much schooling."

"Employ?" Harvey asked.

Harry turned a little and answered the lawyer. "Yes. Employ. I own a business downtown. We're just starting out, but I expect things to start coming together rapidly now that I no longer have to worry about school myself. Will education cover the 'gainful employment' part of the judge's sentence for now?"

"I will ask."

"Good," Harry turned back to Dudley. "If it does, then you will finish your schooling. Once you've managed that, we'll talk some about a job." A knock sounded from the front door. "Come in, Nigel!"

Nigel poked his head through the doorway and kicked the front door closed behind him. "Evening, Jenn, Remus, Sirius." He strode into the lounge, nodding at everyone. "Hey, boss. Whacha need?"

"This," Harry nodded towards Dudley, "is my cousin, Dudley Dursley. Dudley, this is Nigel Smythwick, one of my good friends. He also happens to work for me. Nigel, Dudley has something of a problem he wants my help with."

Knowing some of the story behind Dudley's current circumstances, but not the outcome of the trial, Nigel asked, "And just what would that be?"

"You see, he was found guilty of those charges yesterday, and the judge sentenced him to house arrest. However, Dudley's aunt has…" Harry cleared his throat, "_evicted_ him from her home. Therefore, he has to find somewhere else to live, or else he goes to prison. It occurred to me that we have some extra space downtown."

Nigel grinned, "That we do."

"How long would it take to convert some of the office space into a flat for Dudley here?"

Nigel thought for a couple of minutes, "Not long, I'd imagine. Most of what a flat would need is already in place. We'd need to re-partition some of the walls, run a bit of electric wire, extend some plumbing… At most, a week. If it's really that imperative, it could probably get done tomorrow, but you'd end up paying an arm and a leg for the expedited or emergency fees."

"We don't have a week, Nigel. Why don't you make the necessary calls from the phone in the kitchen and come back when you're done to let me know how much it's going to be?"

"Sure thing, boss," Nigel grinned and headed into the kitchen. If he read Harry's meaning properly, the kid was putting on a show for his cousin's benefit – Harry knew that the remodeling wouldn't take more than an hour with magic at his disposal.

Nigel's assumption was correct. Harry wanted to pound it into Dudley's brain that he was doing Dudley a favor above and beyond that which should reasonably be expected, particularly considering the circumstances. Returning his attention to Dudley, Harry took a moment to wonder if he was really doing the right thing; if Dudley really could learn not to be a bullying git. "How, exactly, does this house-arrest thing work? All I really know about it is the little I've seen on the telly, and I'll admit that I don't watch it all that often."

For the first time, the officer spoke. "With house-arrest, the detainee is fitted with an electronic tracking anklet. His place of residence is set up with a central monitoring station that tracks the location of the anklet – most of these monitoring stations have a range of about one hundred meters. If the anklet is further than the monitor than that, a signal is sent to the nearest police station, and we arrive to investigate the situation. In cases like this, wherein the detainee has been ordered to do something that would require they be further than approved from the monitoring station, appointments are set, and a police officer escorts the detainee to the appropriate locations and back."

"I know I've read about some cases where the person placed under house-arrest was…" Harry smiled a little, "rather affluent. I doubt that many of them have houses smaller than the range you said."

The officer nodded, "In cases like that, multiple monitors are used."

"So, if Dudley manages to abide by the rules I gave him, and manages to impress me enough to hire him, I can outfit my building downtown with several of these stations?"

"Yes, you could."

At that moment, Nigel returned, carrying a piece of paper that came from the yellow legal tablet kept in the kitchen junk-drawer. "Got that info for you, boss."

"And?"

Out of sheer curiosity, Nigel had actually called the necessary offices. "Aquabella Plumbing can have that aspect completed by six o'clock tomorrow, for six thousand quid. Wires, Etc. can have the lines moved or extended at the same time, for three thousand. Capeman Construction can do the walls and whatnot tonight, for ten thousand. And last, but not least, Andrews Contracting can do the lot tonight, for twenty thousand quid."

"Why so much?" Jenn asked.

Nigel grinned, "Expedited emergency services, Jenn. Not to mention triple-overtime and two meals."

Harry stood and took the paper from Nigel. "Thanks, Nigel. If you've not eaten yet, why don't you help yourself to what's in the kitchen?" Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Nigel headed back to the kitchen. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he knew Harry had something else to talk to him about.

Harry stood and pocketed the note. Facing Dudley's lawyer, he asked, "Where will Dudley be staying tonight?"

"The jail, I assume, since you've stated quite emphatically he wouldn't be staying here."

"What of his things? Have they been retrieved from his aunt's?"

"Yes. I have them at my office."

Harry nodded, "Good." He headed over to the phone hanging near the door and the notepad on the small side-table under it. He scribbled down the address of BKE and tore the sheet off the pad. "Meet me there tomorrow at noon, Mr. Harvey. Bring Dudley's things, if you would. Hopefully, by then you will have found out if education would fulfill his employment requirement."

"Certainly, Mr. Potter," Harvey stood and motioned to Dudley.

"No, Mr. Harvey. I have a few things I need to discuss in private with my cousin tonight." Glancing at the officer, he continued, "I presume our excellent police service is to maintain a constant presence until those monitoring gadgets are installed?"

"Yes. In three hours, I'll have ended my shift, and the overnight pair will show up. My partner is out in the patrol car."

"Then I see no reason why Dudley can't stay here tonight. You and your partner, I am sure, can join us for dinner."

The officer shook his head. "Sorry, Mr. Potter. Regulations. I need to maintain a presence in the house, while my partner maintains an exterior presence, in case the detainee decides to make a run for it."

Harry smiled somewhat humorlessly at his cousin, "Dudley won't run, will he?" Dudley shook his head rather emphatically. "In any case, officer, I understand regulations are regulations. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble from your superiors. Is there any objection to me speaking privately with Dudley?"

The officer shook his head. "As long as it's in a room we can easily monitor, my physical presence is unneeded."

"So, it's settled. Remus, why don't you go with Mr. Harvey back to his office and get some clothes for Dudley for tomorrow? Sirius, I need you to call Arthur, the twins, Ted, and Hermione," he tossed his godfather his mobile. "Ted and Hermione's numbers are in there. I know you know Arthur and his son's. In fact, have Nigel help out. I want everyone here at, say… nine? Yeah, nine."

"Tonight?" Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head, "No. Tomorrow morning. Actually, why don't we all meet up at BKE, in my office? We should probably start meeting there, anyway. While we're there, we can figure out which of the existing meeting rooms would be best for us to keep for the time being."

"All right. Nine tomorrow, at BKE, your office. That was the one with the glass-topped desk, right?" Harry nodded. "Anyone else you want there?"

Harry thought hard for several minutes before replying, "No. Not just yet, anyway."

As Sirius disappeared into the kitchen, Remus stood and smiled at Harvey. "Shall we, sir?"

After the lawyer left with Remus, Harry showed his cousin and the officer around the house before rejoining Jenn, Nigel, and Sirius in the kitchen. Sirius was quickly polishing up his meal. Nigel merely looked amused as he sipped a cup of tea. Harry got out an extra plate and handed it to his cousin. "Help yourself, Dudley." To Harry's surprise, Dudley didn't immediately pile his plate as thick as he could. He only took one of the peppers, ignored the mashed potatoes, and filled the other half of his plate with the green salad.

"I'll go make those calls, Harry. See you later?" Sirius said, standing up.

"Yeah."

"See you tomorrow, boss," Nigel grinned and followed Sirius out.

"He doesn't live here?" Dudley asked. His demeanor was still rather… wilted, for lack of a better term.

Harry shook his head, "No, Sirius lives down the block. He can't cook much, though, and normally comes over for dinner if he doesn't have other plans."

"Who is he?"

"Sirius Black. My godfather."

The officer, who had taken up residence in the corner near the back door nearly choked on his tongue. Harry laughed. "Let me guess, you remember the name from an announcement on November first, 1981?"

The officer quickly composed himself and nodded. "Yes, it was an all-points-bulletin for a double-homicide."

Harry sighed and let the smile fade from his face. "That would have been my parents, but Sirius didn't do it. The real killer was caught a couple of months ago, so Sirius was acquitted."

"Rough luck," the officer commented before resuming his 'ignore me, I'm not here' stance by the door.

Harry finished up his supper and glanced over at Dudley. "Whenever you're done, Dudley, I'll be up in my room. You remember where it is?"

Dudley nodded and resumed methodically poking his way through lettuce and tomatoes.

* * *

About half an hour after Harry disappeared into his room, a knock quite unlike Jenn's polite double-rap, Remus' are-you-busy-tap, or Sirius' imaginary I'm-coming-in-whether-you're-clothed-or-not-doorknob-click sounded. "Come in, Dudley." 

The door opened a little and his cousin poked his head in, "How'd you know it was me?"

Harry cleaned his paintbrush as he answered, "I've never heard a knock sound so hesitant before. I have to say it's better than it used to be. Come in. I promise I won't hurt you."

Dudley's face contorted in confusion as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "How do you know I won't hurt you?"

Harry laughed and put the paintbrush back into its place, "Because, even as thick as you can be, you still have some semblance of self-preservation. If you hurt me, I won't hesitate to send you to prison. I know you don't want that, so I know I'm safe."

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

Harry sighed and turned to actually face Dudley. "Do you remember those letters I kept getting the week I turned eleven?"

Dudley actually cracked a grin, "How could I forget? I thought Dad was going to go completely barmy."

"Did you ever get a chance to actually see one of them?"

Dudley shook his head, "No, but I remember that night we spent on that little island, though. That scary giant-man in the furry overcoat said something about… well, about magic."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his cousin. Dudley obviously remembered the evening in question rather more clearly than Harry himself did. Dudley misinterpreted Harry's expression and hurried onward, "I never understood why Mum and Dad wouldn't let me have certain video games… Ultima Online was the last one I asked for. It's this fantasy role-playing game played over the internet. I thought it looked really cool, but they wouldn't buy it for me. They also never wanted me to watch any movies or anything like that that were fantasy… Heck, they wouldn't even let me see _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_…" He trailed off, obviously a little unsure of what to say next.

"What about you, Dudley? I know your parents didn't much care for anything magical, but you don't seem so… biased."

Dudley shrugged, "I don't see how playing a computer game where you blow up aliens is really all that different than playing one where you battle dragons. I mean, it's all make-believe."

"Ah," Harry sat on the edge of his bed and gestured for his cousin to take the desk chair. "But what if magic was real?"

Dudley sat, the chair groaning slightly in protest. "I sort of figured that much out. I remember how weird things used to happen around the house – and honestly, how could a bunch of owls know how to deliver letters without magic involved?" Harry's eyebrow crept a little higher. His cousin, despite appearances, had something like a brain hidden under his short, blonde hair. "I remember that time you set that snake on me and Piers at the zoo, and that time that all your hair grew back over night. So, I figure what that man on the island said had to be true – you're a wizard."

Harry didn't see any reason to deny it, and he had wanted to talk to Dudley about that very thing anyway, so he nodded and removed his wand from its holster, hidden by his shirt-sleeve. "That's right, Dudley. Had your mum not been quite so… hmm… afraid of magic, I would have spent the last seven years going to a school called 'Hogwarts' to learn how to use the magic I have. Since she didn't let me go there, and I didn't really remember that night out on the rock, I didn't find out I was a wizard until my last birthday. Since then, Remus has been bringing me up to speed on what I should have learned in Hogwarts.

"Sometime last fall, I found out that most non-magical things like computers don't work all that well around magic, and decided to figure out why. From that, I developed the concept of my business, Black Kettle Enterprises, to find ways of making technology work around magic. Since you will be living in the building, I wanted to make sure that you understood that you would likely be seeing odd things happen from time to time. Maybe more often, if you prove to me that you deserve a job there."

Contrary to every expectation Harry had of his cousin prior to this conversation, Dudley seemed to take this in stride. He simply asked, "What could I possibly do? I'm not magical… I think Mum would have said something if I were."

Harry's eyebrow-muscles began aching a little, and so his expression melted into a wry grin. "You'd be surprised what magic _can't _do. For now, though, you need to concentrate on finishing secondary school. I stand by what I said earlier, I won't hire anyone who hasn't."

After a couple of minutes of somewhat uncomfortable silence, Dudley finally asked, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this for me? I… didn't expect you to agree, but Mr. Harvey said it couldn't hurt to ask."

Harry sighed and looked up at his cloud-painted ceiling. "Honestly, Dudley, I'm not particularly sure why, other than you _asked_. You never asked for anything that I remember; all the while we were growing up, you merely _demanded_ things." He returned to looking at Dudley. "While I'm never going to forget all the horrible things you've done, I hope that we will both be able to put all that behind us. I may never really like you, but I've learned recently that you don't have to like everyone you work with, nor do they have to like you. I also know that most of what you did to me was because your parents told you to – either that, or they made it clear that they didn't care if you did it."

Dudley, at that precise moment, finally managed to notice something about Harry. _Even though Harry's younger than me, how come he seems grown-up already? If I didn't know the truth, I'd think he was older by at least three or four years. Is it because of that magic? Or something else?_ Harry's voice managed to penetrate his thoughts. "…all. I'll wake you at eight tomorrow."

"Sorry," Dudley said, "What?"

"Mind wander?" Dudley nodded a little sheepishly. "I just said that I'd wake you at eight tomorrow morning to go downtown. Go downstairs to the den and get some sleep, Dudley. You look a little wiped out."

Dudley stood and nodded to his cousin. "Yeah, it's been a long couple of weeks."

* * *

The strongest thunderstorm of the year decided to drench the southern half of the British Isles the next day, complete with thunder, lightning, strong wind, and buckets and buckets of rain. Harry awoke to a particularly loud thunderclap at seven in the morning. The very next moment, a second thunderclap, even louder than the one which had woken him, sounded and the little red numerals on his alarm clock flickered once, twice, and then went out entirely. _Oh joy_, Harry thought sarcastically. _If ever there was a day designed for staying in bed and reading all day, this is it. However, there's still work to be done. Sigh._

While he used a charm to clean up, carefully modulated so as not to touch his hair, he winced a little. _I hope the power's not off downtown. I don't feel like walking up thirty flights of stairs this morning, and I doubt anyone else does, either._

Once Harry was dressed and as presentable as he was likely to get, he headed down to the den. A different officer than the one he'd met the night before was lingering outside the mostly-closed door. He paused, nodding a greeting to the man, who didn't seem as friendly as the other policeman had been, and suddenly realized that though he was normally awake far earlier than either Dudley or Vernon when he was still living with the Dursleys, he had no idea if his cousin was a light sleeper or not. Waking him had never been his job – _actually, it sort of was. I think the smell of breakfast cooking was usually enough to wake him, but then again, I don't know for sure._ Harry knocked loudly before poking his head into the den. Dudley was already awake and sitting on the futon, staring out the window. "I wondered how long you were gonna stand out there."

"Good, you're up. How did you know I was there?" Harry asked, curious.

"I've been awake since about five, when the storm started. I can't sleep during storms, there's too much noise."

"Well," Harry glanced at his watch, "it's running up on seven-thirty. We have time for breakfast before we meet with Nigel."

Dudley scrubbed a hand across his face, nodded, and stood. Harry saw that he'd already made use of the bath before the power had gone out.

Breakfast was simple fare, cold cereal with juice. Harry was a little disappointed there wasn't any tea, but neither the stove nor the microwave worked without electricity, and it wasn't like he could simply conjure some with the policeman lurking in the corner. After they'd finished eating, Harry let the officer know where they were going. The officer used his two-way radio and informed his partner of the address, and then informed Harry that he would have to ride in the same vehicle as they. Harry shrugged and headed to the hall closet, rummaged around in it for a couple of minutes, surreptitiously casting a couple of impervious charms on his clothes, and reemerged with three umbrellas – a black one, a red one, and a lime green one with yellow and pink polka dots. He offered first choice to the officer, who predictably took the black one. He then handed the red one to Dudley, who took one look at the remaining umbrella and cracked a smile for the first time since well before his trial had begun. Harry didn't mind. It was _his_ umbrella, after all. It wasn't his fault that the day he'd been caught needing one the previous fall, the one with the polka dots was the only one left at the store. It may not have been his first choice, but by the end of that day, he'd been glad to have it, partly _because_ of it's nauseating coloring. It was ugly enough that no one else had tried to claim it from the umbrella stand in either the art-supply store, at school, or at the service shop later that evening.

During the drive to the BKE building, neither of the muggles seemed to notice that the cab of Harry's truck wasn't _quite_ as cramped as it could have been. Parking was much simpler than it had any right to be, since the building housed its own parking garage. The electricity for the downtown district of London was working as well as ever, so the trio was able to take the elevator directly up to Harry's office on the penthouse floor.

Nigel, Sirius, and Remus were already there. Sirius grinned at Harry, "Hermione and the rest will be here soon."

Harry nodded and ushered everyone into the office, shooting Remus a questioning glance. He was unaware that his mentor wanted anything to do with his business. Harry perched at on the desk while Sirius and Remus took both of the available chairs, Dudley plopped onto the leather sofa, and Nigel remained standing. The officer, as per usual, took up space near the door. "While we wait for everyone else to show up," Harry began, "Nigel? Did that flat get installed without any problems?"

"Sure did, boss," Nigel smirked. Ever since Harry had recruited him for BKE, Nigel had yet to revert to calling him 'Harry'. "It's down on thirty, can't miss where – I left a trail of post-it notes with arrows on them as a guide. Has a damn good view of the Thames, too. The plumbers said the seals had to set for twenty-four hours before it could be used, though."

"Duly noted. Dudley, do you have an issue with not using the plumbing for today?"

Dudley shook his head and slowly began to realize that there had been far more to his cousin than he'd ever thought while growing up. "He'd probably be able to use it all at roughly two tomorrow morning," Nigel supplied.

Harry smirked a little, but Sirius beat him to the joke, "So, Dudley, right?" Dudley nodded. "Best not over-do it on the liquids today, eh?"

Though no one laughed outright, Remus saw that even the officer had smiled.

"What company did you end up going with?" Harry asked, moving right along.

"Andrews Contracting," Nigel answered.

"Really? No… heh… _personal _touches, then?" If the officer thought the question odd, he certainly didn't show it.

"Nothing major," Nigel said, matter-of-factly. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of relocating some of the furniture from some of the other offices for the time-being," Nigel replied. "You'll want to order a bed, but we put in a sofa, a chair, and some side tables and lamps in the living area. One of the break-rooms is currently down a table and two chairs, and there was a decent desk that wasn't too difficult to move in what I assume had been the previous occupant's secretarial pool. They installed an electric hob, and another of the break-rooms had a full-size refrigerator and a small microwave."

"Good. Thanks, Nigel. I actually hadn't thought that far ahead." He turned to Remus, "I suppose I'll be speaking with you after all this is done, right?"

Remus smiled, "Of course, cub. I'm slightly upset you hadn't done so already."

"What time is that tracking device supposed to be installed?" Harry asked the officer.

"At nine-thirty," he replied.

"Okay… Hmm…" Harry glanced around, "Nigel? How about you go down and wait for Mr. Harvey to show up with the rest of Dudley's things? Sirius, you go see if you can find out what's keeping Hermione and the Weasleys. Remus, you wait here until either everyone shows up or I come back for you. I'll take Dudley and the officer here down to check out the flat. I'm sure you're all welcome to join us if you wish, once everyone's here, of course."

After a round of nods and other assorted affirmatives, Harry lead Dudley and the officer back towards the elevators. It was a short trip down two floors, and true to Nigel's word, the way to the flat was clearly marked in little black arrows penned on bright yellow sticky-notes. A pair of keys was taped to a plain black door set into a glass-brick wall. Harry pulled the keys down, balled up the tape, and unlocked the door. _Damn… Nigel hs good taste_, he thought as the door swung open and reached for a light-switch.

The wall into which the door was hung was only glass brick on the hall side. The construction crew had put up normal drywall on the inside. The living area was rather large, with two whole walls made up of full-length windows. The remaining two walls were painted a simple white, and the wall which didn't sport windows, nor was shared with the hallway, had a small, grey-stone fireplace. The switch on the wall next to it, along with the metal key sticking out from the right side of the hearth, proved it to be gas-powered. The floor was covered in dark blue carpet that felt surprisingly springy beneath his feet. As Nigel had said, he'd apprehended furniture from elsewhere in the building. A cream-colored sofa sat at an angle, facing both the fireplace and one of the walls of windows. A matching armchair was set at a ninety-degree angle to the sofa. A simple, black-lacquered end table sat between them with a dark blue lamp sitting on it. The coffee table matched the end table, and a pillar lamp stood at the other end of the sofa. Harry noticed that the electrical outlets for these lamps were in the floor, and he realized that this area had likely hosted row upon row of computers at one time.

A curved black archway not far from the fireplace revealed a darkened kitchen. As the trio made their way over to it, Harry again flicked a light-switch. The kitchen was a normal kitchen, and the industrial white-and-black-checkerboard table seemed to fit in quite nicely with the rest of the flat thus far. An unobtrusive door proved to be the bedroom – currently empty, save for the wall of vertical blinds – and the last door opened on a bathroom done in varying shades of green.

Returning to the living area, Harry turned a wry smirk on his cousin. "So, Dudley. This what you had in mind?"

It hadn't escaped Harry's attention that Dudley's jaw hadn't managed to close since opening the door. Dudley made a few unintelligible noises before managing to choke out, "I… It's… I… I mean… It's just… wow."

At about the same time Dudley finished mangling that sentence, there was a knock on the still-open door. "Mr. Dursley, Mr. Potter. Officer," Mr. Harvey greeted them, guiding the front end of a largish trolley.

The other end was being pushed by Nigel, "Hey, boss. Where should we park it?"

Harry looked to Dudley, who seemed a little afraid to have to make a decision. "Um… there is fine," he pointed in the vicinity of the empty corner near the door.

An unfamiliar woman carrying a large cardboard box was close on Nigel's heels. "Pardon if I'm early," she said, her voice carrying distinct Welsh overtones. "Miranda Goshawk," she introduced herself to Harry and Dudley. "Which of you is Dudley Dursley?"

Dudley stepped forward. "That's me."

"All right," she set the box down and looked around. "This is your place of residence?"

Dudley nodded.

"And who is the owner of the property?"

"That would be me," Harry said. "You're here to install the tracking device, correct?"

Miranda nodded, "That I am. I will also need to set up a payment plan with you."

This was news. "Pardon?"

"Oh, there's a six-pound-per-day fee for rental of the equipment, though in cases like this where the sentence is for several years, it might be more prudent to purchase it."

Harry sighed and shook his head, "And where was this information last night, Mr. Harvey?"

The lawyer had the decency to blush a little, "Um… It didn't come up?"

"Whatever," Harry sighed. "Dudley, why don't you start figuring out what boxes you want where while I talk with Miss Goshawk in the kitchen?"

Miranda followed Harry into the flat's kitchen after picking up the box again. "It's Mrs., actually."

"Sorry. Why don't you sit down? I'd offer some refreshment, but the kitchen's not yet been stocked."

"That's fine, I had coffee on the way over. Now, shall we to business?" she opened the box and removed a sheaf of papers. "First things first, I understand the sentence is for seven years, correct?"

"That's right."

"So… with 2000 and 2004 being leap years, that's… where's my calculator?" she muttered.

Harry smiled, "Two-thousand, five-hundred, fifty-seven days. You said the daily fee is six quid, right?"

Miranda nodded, "That's right. Do I even want to ask how you can figure this without a calculator?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm good at math. The total for seven years is £15,342. Does the fee increase if multiple stations are needed?"

"That it does. Each additional monitoring station is three quid a day."

"So… the grand total, should my cousin actually manage to talk me into a job would be roughly half a million pounds." Harry sighed. "How much to simply purchase the ruddy things?"

"The anklet is £150 and each monitoring station is £2500."

Harry nodded, "All right. Let's go with that route. Will the monitoring station cover an entire floor of my building?"

"I don't see why not."

"Okay, so one anklet and… hmm… I'll just buy the one monitoring station for now. If I need more, how do I contact you?"

"I'll give you my card," she replied as she began filling out a form. The paperwork didn't take long, particularly after Miranda had a copy of Harry's bank-card number, and installing the monitoring station took even less time. The station looked something like a triangular black radio, but was wired into the telephone lines. Small blinking yellow lights came on when Miranda flicked a switch. "Mr. Dursley!"

Dudley scurried into the kitchen, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Sit," she said, gesturing to the chair Harry wasn't occupying. While fitting Dudley's thicker-than-normal ankle with a wide cuff sporting a small black box, she informed him of the rules governing the gadget. "The anklet is waterproof. Should it grow too tight or become loose enough to slip off, you are to inform me immediately. You will be provided with my business card before I leave. The anklet is designed to handle a significant amount of hard use, but tampering with it will send an alarm to the nearest police station. Too many incidents like that, and you will likely find the judge sending you to prison. The lights on its surface indicate how close you are to leaving your confined area. When the green light's on, you're good. When the yellow light starts blinking, you're in a ten-foot no-zone. Should you venture far enough to trigger the red light, which will have an accompanying beep-alarm, you will have ten seconds to return to the confinement area before the police are summoned. Do you understand these rules?"

Dudley nodded, flexing his ankle experimentally. "Yes, ma'am."

After a couple of signatures from Dudley and Harry, Miranda left in the company of the officer.

Most of the remainder of the day was spent, first in introducing Dudley to the people he was most likely to interact with, and then in a rather lengthy meeting – sans Dudley – regarding miscellaneous minutiae of what still needed done before BKE could officially open their doors.

* * *

**A/N2:** Several reviewers have asked what fic I'm betaing. It's the 'Raising Harry' series by aramie.greyson (here on fanfiction-dot-net) – the first story is 'Raising Harry: La Vida Muggle' followed by 'Hogwarts is a Strange Place: Raising Harry Book 2'. Aramie's got everything through Harry's third year at Hogwarts written, and I'm slowly betaing my way through nearly 400 pages of fic. She wanted a second opinion on what was going on with her story before delving into what she claims is the 'really different in a harsh, how-could-I-do-this sort of way' stuff. It's an AU wherein Harry is raised by a muggle, but it's one of the better versions of that particular spin I've seen; at least, so far. Mind, I've only betaed though about chapter nine or so of Hogwarts year one, so it remains to be seen whether Aramie can keep up the pace. I hope so. For a first attempt at fanfic, I think it's fabulous. Nay, strike that, for a fanfic, first attempt or otherwise, it's pretty damn good. 

So… was it better than the last chapter?


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer:** It belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling, not me.

**A/N:** Um… I_knew_ that ruddy name was familiar (Miranda Goshawk). Damnit. I should know better than to write a chapter without checking the Lexicon! Oh, well, consider it a wacky coincidence for now. If it ends up being important to the plot, I'll address it later.

This chapter is basically a lead-in for what I have planned next - and I know it's a little on the short side, but... Well, I don't really have a good excuse for that. Sigh. Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Planning and Preparation**

Harry looked up from his easel to identify the source of the tapping at his window. It was, as he'd assumed, an owl. It wasn't Hedwig, though. It was an unfamiliar owl, larger than most of the others he had seen. _Isn't that an eagle owl?_ he mused as he sat his paintbrush to the side and opened the window. The owl flew in and perched on the back of his desk chair. Harry took the parchment envelope from the owl. "Wonder what Snape wants?" he said aloud, recognizing the spiky handwriting. He broke the plain wax seal and opened the letter to find two sheets of parchment.

_16 June, 1998  
Potter,_

_As we had agreed, Lucius sent the enclosed letter to me to be forwarded to you. Are you free for a meeting on the twentieth?_

_-Prof. S. Snape_

_15 June, 1998  
Severus,_

_Please let Mr. Sophismata know that I think his proposition is sound. I would like to meet in person sometime in the next week to discuss potential courses of action._

_One of the things we will need to address is what to do with Mr. Riddle and those 'friends' of his who won't want to follow what we plan to do. I have some ideas on this, but don't wish to pen them in a letter._

_Let me know when Mr. Sophismata will be available._

_Sincerely,  
Lucius Malfoy_

Harry laughed outright at the fact that Malfoy was still using the name Snape had come up with. _Doesn't the man pay attention to all the Latin used in spells? Or doesn't he care what they mean? Or if he knows, does he just figure it's a last name and have done with it? It's funny how literal wizards can be; there must be thousands of ways of disguising one's identity with magic, yet they all assume, when meeting someone, that what they're seeing is the truth of the matter. I know most muggles would assume likewise, but even they know that things like make-up and wigs, hair-dye and whatnot are relatively easy to use. Not to mention the fact that lying is usually pretty easy to do._ Still chuckling a little, he nodded to the owl, "I'll have a response ready in a few minutes. Go ahead and have something to eat and drink – I'm sure Hedwig won't mind." He gestured to the perch in the corner of the room. Hedwig was out hunting and likely wouldn't be back until morning – if then. The weather the last couple of days had been quite nice, and his owl seemed to like roosting in the tall maple tree in the back yard.

The eagle owl fluttered over to the perch and began investigating the food dish while Harry took a seat at his desk. Harry thought for a few minutes on what he wanted to say before booting up his laptop and typing. When he finished, he emailed it to himself and then went down to the den to print it off, much to Jenn's irritation; it wasn't that she was in the middle of anything important – unless beating her previous high score in Minesweeper counted – it was more the fact that she _could _have been.

"At least I know now what I can get for you for Christmas," Jenn joked as the printer worked.

"If you think so. I don't really use it all that often, though."

"I know, but it'd be nice to have your own so you don't have to keep hijacking my workspace whenever you need to print anything." Jenn sighed a little, "So… What did you decide?"

Harry blinked, confusion apparent on his face. "About what?"

"You mentioned something a couple of months ago about going to uni part-time. I was wondering if you'd done anything with that?"

Harry brightened, "Oh, yeah. I did some research online. I think I'll see if I can do a distance-learning course. It'd be easier than trying to drive back and forth to classes three or four times a week." Harry removed the letter from the printer tray and snagged an envelope from the box next to the monitor of Jenn's computer.

"Makes sense, what with that building downtown. How's it going with that, by the way?"

"Slower than I'd hoped, but no real problems so far – other than the obvious."

"Sorry," Jenn shook her head, "what obvious?"

Harry folded the letter and sealed it in the envelope, rolling his eyes as he did so. "That _thing_ I agreed to play jailer for. However, he seems pretty serious about sticking to his side of our agreement. The judge's allowing him to finish secondary school before he has to get a job, and so far, the only thing Dudley's asked for has been a computer with internet in his flat, so he didn't have to arrange escorts through the court all the time. Actually, that was what made me think of doing distance-learning myself."

"Should I call _Ripley's_? You just admitted that your_cousin_, of all people, actually had a _good_ idea?" She reached up and laid her hand on his forehead. "Hmm… no fever. You sure you're feeling all right?"

Harry batted her hand away with a light chuckle, "Well, even a stopped watch is right twice a day – it had to happen to Ickle Diddums sometime." An impatient hoot sounded through the ceiling, interrupting their conversation. "I better get this owled before that monster decides to eat my bed-curtains. Or the bed."

"That's not Hedwig?"

"Nope, she's out hunting again. Snape sent a rather evil-looking bird that's probably beginning to gnaw through the perch."

"Best not make it wait, then."

Harry nodded and ducked out of the den. Upon reaching his bedroom, he scrawled _Professor Snape_ on the envelope and handed it to the owl. "Here you go. Thanks for waiting."

The owl ruffled its feathers and took off out the window.

* * *

_17 June, 1998  
Professor,_

_The twentieth should be fine. Where should we meet? If you have no complaints, might I suggest my office in London? I think it would be prudent to have Malfoy on unfamiliar ground, just in case he wasn't as sincere as he would like us to believe. I know I can have Sirius and Remus there, too. Maybe I'll install a hidden camera, so they can watch on CCTV from another room. I doubt that Malfoy would think to look for something like that._

_I find it amusing that Malfoy just assumes that I was who you said I was. I would have thought that he'd have been… Oh, I don't know. More suspicious. Are all wizards so unimaginative? If so, then I definitely need to get BKE up and running in order to give the wizarding world a lesson in thinking outside of the box._

_I would appreciate it if we could meet to discuss this issue with Malfoy in person sometime before the twentieth. I'd like a better idea of the man's personality before I get too deep in dealing with him._

_On an unrelated note, I've been meaning to ask – just why did that potion of ours do what it did to whom we gave it? From what I could gather on what went into it, it shouldn't have had the effect it did. Could it have all stemmed from sleep deprivation?_

_Yesterday, Remus mentioned to me that you were working on a new variation of Wolfsbane. He didn't know what effect you were going for, however, but did say that it would be infinitely better if it didn't taste so horrible. I think he was hoping that was your goal, though I doubt it, personally. Last night, I was wasting time online and stumbled across pictures of the American's Mars Pathfinder project and had a random thought: What would the effects of having a werewolf on Mars be? I mean, is it just our moon that triggers the transformation, or is it any moon? Is it because our moon is technically not a satellite, but a planetary binary partner? Just thought I'd ask you as I don't know who else would have even a remote possibility of having the answers._

_I also had something else I wanted to discuss with you – it's nothing major – but I think this letter has rambled on quite long enough as it is._

_See you on Saturday,  
Harry Potter_

Severus tucked the letter into one of his many pockets and quickly downed the remainder of his breakfast coffee. He had a letter to reply to, and two of his research projects were going to need careful attending for the next twenty hours. If he expected Lucius to receive Harry's reply in time for the actual meeting, he'd best send it before going into his lab.

Sitting at his battered, old desk in his study, Severus retrieved a clean sheet of parchment and thought for several minutes before setting his quill to work.

_18 June, 1998  
Lucius,_

_Mr. Sophismata has graciously agreed with your request to speak with him in person. He will be available this Saturday. If this agrees with your schedule, I will floo to the manor at two o'clock. I trust you've no objections to Side-Along in this instance – Mr. Sophismata prefers we meet at his office in London, and I doubt that you have been there before._

_-Prof. S. Snape _

His return note to Harry wasn't much longer.

_18 June, 1998  
Potter,_

_As I will be seeing you this weekend, I will answer your questions then. I have sent a letter to Lucius stating that we will meet with you on Saturday, at your office, at two-thirty. I, of course, shall come to your house earlier, so that you can show me this office of yours. I will need some idea as to where to apparate Lucius. Ten o'clock would be preferable._

_-Prof. S. Snape_

* * *

Saturday, the twentieth of June, was one of those beautifully gorgeous days where the temperature was perfect for short sleeves with just enough breeze to keep the air fresh and the only clouds fluffy, white mounds floating across a sky of cerulean blue. Harry woke rather early. Even though it was summer, a lifetime of being expected to make his uncle's breakfast ensured his internal clock was forever set on 'early riser'. At a quarter past seven, he headed down to the kitchen.

Remus was steadily working his way through a plate of bacon and eggs. An empty plate and mug sat in the sink. Harry helped himself to the last of the food and sat across from Remus. "You're looking well, Harry," Remus commented.

Harry smiled, "Just in a good mood, I guess. Where'd Jenn run off to?"

"She said something about having some errands to run. What about you, Cub? What are your plans for the day?"

"Oh, Professor Snape and I are meeting up with Lucius Malfoy to determine precisely what his role will be in BKE."

Harry should have waited until Remus had finished swallowing his tea. As it was, Remus took several moments to cough. When he finally got his breath back, he wiped his mouth on a paper napkin. "What!?"

Chuckling, Harry shook his head a little. "What 'what'? He's got the political pull I'll need to successfully pull this grand plan out of my head and into reality – or so Professor Snape told me."

Remus' eyes were comically wide. "While I can't dispute that, I hope you know what you're doing, Cub. Lucius Malfoy can be… dangerous to know."

"So I've gathered," Harry dryly replied, spreading marmalade on a piece of toast. "I was hoping you and Sirius would be available to help me keep an eye on things. The meeting's going to be this afternoon, downtown."

Still somewhat surprised to hear of Harry's plans for the day, Remus could do little else but nod. Harry chuckled a little at Remus' expression and continued talking around a mouthful of breakfast. "I want to set up a CCTV system between my office and a nearby room. I assume that Malfoy knows Sirius at least, and it wouldn't do at all for him to catch on too early just who he'll be working for."

Remus let out a little laugh as he realized something. "You really_do_ know what you're doing, don't you?"

Harry smiled and took a drink of his juice. "I hope so, Remus. I certainly hope so."

* * *

After stopping by an electronics store to pick up a cheap CCTV system comprised of a solitary camera and a black and white monitor, Harry, Sirius, and Remus arrived at the BKE building that still sported the sign for 'Lexik Mainframes'. Sirius and Remus headed up to the top floor to install the CCTV system and Harry hurried back to the Kellerman house. He arrived with little under a minute to spare before Snape showed.

"Professor," Harry greeted him.

"Potter."

"Come on, I left Sirius and Remus alone in my office… I'd like to get back before they manage to blow something up."

Snape smirked, "At least you maintain a realistic view of those two."

Harry shrugged a little and began the trip back to his building in downtown London. "So, you said you'd answer my questions today…"

"That I did. Insofar as our little potion's effects on the Dark Lord, I would have to assume that the result we received had partly to do with the Dark Lord's unusual physiology, partly to do with his mental state prior to our interference, and partly due to sleep deprivation. However, this is merely my opinion – there isn't any way to know for sure what, exactly, caused his insanity."

"Oh," Harry was a little disappointed with that answer, but he figured the professor knew what he was talking about. "What about a werewolf on Mars?"

"You realize that is quite probably the most ridiculous question I've ever been asked," Snape arched one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

Harry chuckled a little. "Yeah, I know. I've just been spending so much time with Remus that it just made me wonder about the reality of lycanthropy. I've always liked astronomy, and seeing some of the pictures the Americans have of the Martian surface… It just made me curious. I know a lot of people have the desire to be able to travel the stars and visit other worlds, and with my brain being how it is… Well, I couldn't help wondering."

Snape made a 'harrumph' noise. "I don't see the point in dwelling on impossible matters, Potter."

Harry grinned, "But it's not so impossible, you know. The Americans want to have a manned mission to Mars completed by the year 2010. If a muggle could walk on the Martian surface – why not a wizard? Why not a werewolf?" Catching Snape's expression out of the corner of his eye, Harry sighed. "Consider it an intellectual exercise."

"Very well," Snape groused. "Lycanthropy is caused by a magical breed of spherical transmucosal salivarian animal virus, much the same as Dragon Pox and Kelzan Syndrome. It can only be transmitted by contact with the saliva of a transformed wolf, and then only if the saliva is introduced to the bloodstream."

"A werewolf bite," Harry said.

"Or being drooled on and getting it in an open cut or something similar."

"Oh."

"The reason the disease 'activates' – for lack of a better term – during the full moon is because of Agrippa's first law of Elemental Transmutation. Do you recall it?"

Harry nodded, "Elemental magic, when in contact with a reflective surface, doubles back in on itself, becoming stronger and burning out impurities."

"Not how I would have phrased it, but accurate."

"So, you're saying that the reason lycanthropy activates on the full moon is because that's when the moon's reflection of the sun's fire magic reaches a… trigger point?"

"Precisely," Snape replied. "Now, addressing the Mars aspect of your little hypothetical situation – Phobos and Deimos combined are less than a tenth the mass and reflective surface of the moon. Under no circumstances would they be able to reflect enough fire magic to trigger the virus into activity."

Harry took a moment to think about that and then started laughing. "So, if lycanthropy can only be transmitted by a transformed wolf, and if the Martian moons just aren't large enough to trigger the virus, then the disease itself could be totally annihilated in a single generation – if living on Mars was an option."

"That may be true, but the feasibility of your solution remains an impossibility, Potter."

"Two words, Snape – Dragon Tears."

Snape managed not to roll his eyes, but the urge to do so was strong. The remainder of the ride to BKE was spent mostly in silence. After pulling to a stop in the basement level parking garage, Harry escorted Snape up to his office. Harry helped Remus install the CCTV camera while discussing the afternoon's meeting with Lucius. At noon, Harry ordered some delivery from a nearby deli and the four of them had lunch. Remus and Harry hardly heard the snarking between Sirius and Severus anymore.

When the last of the sandwiches and tea had been finished off, Severus apparated back to Hogsmeade, reminding Harry that he would be back at two-thirty with Malfoy. While waiting for Snape to return with Malfoy, Harry went through the process of readopting his disguise of 'James Sophismata'. Sirius couldn't help laughing at both the name and the disguise. Harry managed to shoo both him and Remus out of the office shortly before Malfoy and Snape appeared.

"Mr. Sophismata, a pleasure to see you again," Lucius' voice was warm, though still echoed of the politician he undoubtedly was.

Harry shook the blonde's hand, "I believe I asked you to call me James, Mr. Malfoy."

"Lucius, please," Malfoy replied.

"Professor," Harry greeted Severus. "Make yourselves comfortable," Harry nodded towards the two leather-and-chrome chairs facing his glass topped desk. "I apologize for the lack of personnel – I've not yet had the chance to hire a secretary. May I offer you something to drink?"

"Thank you, but no," Lucius shook his head.

"Professor?"

"No."

"Loquacious as ever, aren't you?" Harry thought he could probably get away with the comment – it wasn't as though he were Snape's student any longer, after all.

Lucius chuckled politely while Severus arched an eyebrow and dryly replied, "Indeed."

Harry smiled and picked up a pen and a tablet of yellow legal paper, "Well, now that the pleasantries have been observed, shall we get down to business?"

Over the course of the next four hours, Lucius and Harry tossed ideas back and forth, with an occasional idea from Severus. By the time Malfoy and Snape left, Remus and Sirius were snoring in the room next door, and Harry couldn't stop grinning. The first step to his life-goal had been taken, from here on out, it was going to be nothing but work. _But it'll be fun, too._

* * *

**A/N2:** This is the last chapter of the first part of the story arc. The next chapter will be out soon (I decided against starting a second story for the next bit, even though this is starting to come up on 'epic' in length) – how soon, I can't rightly say, but I hope it will be up in the next week or two.

Reviews make me smile – and don't forget that I have a reward for the poster of the 2000th review of this story, see my profile for full details!


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer:** It belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling, not me.

**A/N:** Sorry about how long this took to get out – real life intruded and then NaNo happened and real life again and then there were the Holidays and then more real life and then the muse went out for a burger and ended up sending me a postcard from San Diego and then… Sigh.

Here we have the first of two chapters of a series of scenes to jump the storyline ahead to the next main bit – a word of warning, several of these scenes are_ not_ from Harry's point-of-view, just so ya know.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Time Passes**

_June 23, 1998_

The bed Dudley woke up on was slowly becoming more familiar. It wasn't as soft as his bed at his parents' had been, it was larger than the bunk in the jail, and was far more comfortable than the muslin-wrapped-brick at Aunt Marge's. Unlike most of the people he knew, Dudley was, by nature, a morning person. The times he stayed out with his friends until midnight or later while growing up had proven this beyond any doubt in his mind – he simply ceased to function at a reasonable level if he was up past ten or eleven at night, becoming more and more foul-tempered as the hours stretched later.

Gray light peeked from between the slats of the vertical blinds indicating that it was either shortly before sunrise or that the day was going to be damply dismal. Dudley wasn't hoping for sunshine; his luck hadn't been running all that well lately, and rain on his birthday would be just about par for the course.

He sighed and rolled himself out of bed and towards the bathroom. Harry had been thoughtful enough to make sure he had the basics for living – towels, sheets, the bed, and so on – delivered the evening he'd moved in. A pretty brunette girl with frizzy hair had actually been the one to drop off the numerous boxes; she'd removed them from her pockets and enlarged the parcels from their toylike size while Dudley watched with a queasy mix of fascination and fear. Though he was sure she'd introduced herself, he couldn't remember what she said her name was. She'd lingered just long enough to help him move the boxes to the rooms for which they were labeled.

He'd put the refrigerator-groceries away, set up his bed, and dug out a couple of other miscellaneous things like soap, but hadn't finished unpacking anything else just yet. He had spent the majority of the last three days either staring out at London or playing computer games. He'd been sorely disappointed when he discovered that the Ethernet jack in the living room wasn't connected.

For breakfast, he had a handful of grapes. He really wanted a bowl of cereal – _No, what I really want is a couple of waffles with whipped cream and blueberries and crispy bacon and some toast and some fried tomatoes and maybe a bowl of peaches with some cream_ – but he didn't know in which box it might be hiding.

_Come on, Dudley,_ he gave himself a mental shake, _pull yourself out of this. You're bloody eighteen years old today – start acting like it._ The emptiness and solitude of his apartment seemed to crush down around him, making it hard to breathe. He sighed and looked from the piles of boxes lining the kitchen counters to his hands and back.

He grabbed a box off the counter, moved it to the table, and ripped the tape off, the noise of tape parting company with the box was unnaturally loud. The box had a sheet of parchment sitting on top of the contents. The handwriting was extremely neat and precise, not to mention unfamiliar.

_The contents will automatically resize when you remove them. Once the box is empty, it will linger for three hours before banishing itself as well as any rubbish you place within._

Sitting the note aside, he saw that this box held dozens of cans. Soup and peas and string beans and corned beef hash among others. He picked the cupboard over the microwave and set to work putting things away. The second box held boxes of cereal, pasta, instant potatoes, and muffin-mixes. The third held cleaning supplies including sponges, dishrags, tea towels, soap, a broom and dustpan, and a sponge mop. The next had assorted dishes, followed by a box of pots and pans. One-by-one, the boxes slowly emptied and their contents were put where Dudley thought they needed to go. Each had the same note as the first.

He moved on from the kitchen to the significantly smaller stack of boxes for the bathroom and found that those boxes had a similar note, but the contents weren't shrunk – the boxes themselves would simply 'banish' after the three hour limit. With towels and toilet paper and soap and shampoo all put away in either the linen closet or the space under the sink, Dudley moved on to the bedroom boxes. Checking his watch halfway through putting his clothes away, he realized he'd managed to waste close to five hours. Ever since his parents… had gone, he'd not really been hungry; eating had been more of a habit than a necessity. Still… He was feeling somewhat proud of the fact that he'd accomplished something with his morning, and he felt far hungrier than he had in a long time. He hurriedly finished up with the last of his clothes and set to making himself a can of barley soup for lunch.

He'd almost managed to forget what day it was. Almost.

After lunch was done, he headed into the living room to finish unpacking. _Gonna hafta remember to tell Harry I need some tape or something so I can hang my posters. Maybe some shelves for my movies and a stand for the telly, too. _By the time he'd finished up, the flat was definitely looking more lived-in. He smiled at the stack of empty boxes – the normal ones, that is, the magical ones had already all disappeared – and felt… _accomplished_. The smile was short lived, though.

"Happy birthday, Dudley," he muttered to himself, suddenly depressed that it was highly likely no one else would say those words to him, not to mention the fact that the early morning promise of rain had been fulfilled. Stretching out on the sofa, he angled his little television, which he'd set up on the coffee table for the time-being, so he could see it more clearly and popped in his favorite sci-fi movie. The noise from the heroes battling aliens in a far-away galaxy made the flat seem a little less isolated.

Dudley was startled awake by a knock on his door some time later. How much later, he couldn't hazard a guess, but it had been long enough that it was dark outside, and his television was currently showing nothing more than a blue screen. "Just a mo'!" he shouted, before yawning and climbing to his feet. He flicked on a lamp as he passed it.

When he opened the door, he saw a small crowd of people on the other side. His cousin was standing behind everyone, wearing the most neutral of all possible expressions. He recognized the pretty brunette who had delivered the boxes of whatnot he'd spent all day unpacking, Mrs. Kellerman, Mr. Lupin, and Mr. Black. He didn't know who the gorgeous woman wearing jeans and a black tank top might be, but judging by the way she was hanging on Mr. Black's arm, he knew he would want to maintain civility around her – he knew he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but even he knew not to try poaching on someone else's territory.

Mrs. Kellerman smiled kindly, "Happy birthday, Dudley." She stepped forward, and instinct had Dudley backing away so she could come in. Her greeting was echoed by everyone but Harry.

Harry paused next to him and whispered, "Just so you know, this wasn't _my_ idea." The barbed comment hurt more than he would have expected. _Guess he's still angry with me._

Between Mr. Black, his girlfriend, and Mr. Lupin, there weren't any chances for uncomfortable silences for the remainder of the evening. Mrs. Kellerman had brought a cake, guaranteeing that it was non-fat and low-sugar – which was patently obvious in its somewhat stale-cardboard flavoring on which no one commented. To Dudley's further surprise, everyone had brought presents for him, too; even Rumor Watson and the girl with the frizzy hair – _Hermione_.

Miss Watson had given him a couple of video games for his Playstation, including a mix disk of old Atari classics. Mr. Black got him a small telescope that had a card inside the box which read, 'It'd be a shame to let all those windows go to waste.' Mr. Lupin gave him a book on studying tips, Mrs. Kellerman gave him another book titled How to Cook Absolutely Anything in Plain English. Hermione's box was charmed much like the boxes for the kitchen had been and contained a full dozen books on the magical world, its people, creatures, and history. At the bottom of the box were a pair of small book shelves that had three rungs each and stood about four feet tall. Somewhat anxious as to what Harry might have gotten him, Dudley saved his cousin's gift for last. It turned out to be a mobile phone. It had Harry's number, the Kellerman house number, Mrs. Kellerman's number, and his lawyer's number pre-programmed into it. _Too bad I don't remember Piers' number._

* * *

_June 30, 1998_

Finally getting the chance to meet and talk with Brent and Julia Parker – Nigel's friends from the US, Harry realized that Nigel had been correct in getting the three of them on the same page, so-to-speak. Brent was a physicist that specialized in the physics of magic – not a normal specialization by any stretch of the imagination, but the man was much like Nigel, a wizard with scientific leanings. Julia was his wife and though a squib by birth, she knew more about the theory of magic than just about anyone else Harry had spoken with on the subject; she was the research behind her husband's experimentations.

The Parkers were fascinated by what Harry was planning on doing with the wizarding and muggle worlds, and both had agreed that it was a good idea, so long as it was carefully done. They had a contract in the US that they needed to finish, but had agreed to move to London when that contract expired in January.

* * *

_July 14, 1998_

Reading over a couple of charms he'd not had the chance to learn previously, Harry made a couple of notations in his BKE notebook and closed the Standard Book of Spells (grade six) and blinked at the cover. _I knew I knew that name from somewhere! But the woman who set up Dudley's monitoring anklet didn't seem old enough to have written multiple editions of the __Standard Book of Spells__ texts… Maybe she's a relative?_

Checking with Sirius, Harry learned that the Mrs. Goshawk that he met was either someone with the same name as the textbook author, or was married to the author's squib grandson. In either case, it was a rather large coincidence that the two women had the same name.

* * *

_July 29, 1998_

"That is _it_, I have had it with this place!" Eliza Rillikee slammed a leather ledger shut with a resounding _crack_. "I don't care that the pay's good – what does it matter if I'm stuck researching _all the time_?"

Three of the other researchers peered over their respective tomes. An elderly gent leveled a disapproving glare in her direction. Another researcher, this one not quite so old, nor so male, smiled to herself, shook her head, and went back to reading through a treatise on the Dragon Pox endemic of 1874. The last of the three researchers situated close enough to Eliza to catch her mutterings chuckled. He sat his own book aside and stretched, popping his back as he did so.

When Ron had began his apprenticeship at St. Mungo's, he hadn't anticipated that the first few months would be spent stuck in the hospital's library, honing his research skills. It had only taken until the end of the first day for him to realize he honestly missed Hermione's rather bossy company. Not to mention the fact that she_ always_ knew where to look for obscure information. "Not in the apprenticeship program, I take it?"

Eliza shook her head, "No. I don't much like sick people, and the sight of blood makes me queasy, so I don't think I'd make a good healer."

Ron let out an amused huff, "Then how is it you're working here?"

Eliza shrugged and brushed her light brown hair out of her face. "It's just a job. From what I saw in the advertisement – not to mention what they told me – I had figured it would be an easy job; it's just reading and reporting on what was read. I hadn't figured on it being so time-consuming."

Ron glanced at the clock near the door. It read _Time for Lunch_. "C'm on, let's head up to the tea shop and grab something to eat." The two exchanged normal small-talk on the elevator ride to the tea shop floor. After securing some lunch from the vendor, they took a corner table. "So, what would you rather be doing with your time?"

Eliza nibbled on her sandwich before answering, "Honestly?"

Ron nodded.

She closed her pale blue eyes for a moment and let her face relax into a pleasant smile. "Not many people know this, but I ended up going to a two-year business school in the US after finishing Hogwarts. My daddy thought it would be a good idea, especially since I was supposed to take over his businesses when he died. Unfortunately, he got bought out by his partners just before I graduated in May, so my taking them over if Daddy ever passes is kinda moot."

"Business school, huh?" Ron grinned. He had a plan.

Eliza misinterpreted the grin, "Oh, Merlin. I _knew_ I shouldn't've said anything."

Ron shook his head and laid a hand on her arm, "No, I wasn't making fun, Eliza. It's just that I know someone who just might want you working with him. Let me talk to him first, though."

* * *

_July 31, 1998_

Harry's eighteenth birthday was something of a memorable day, if entirely ordinary in its occurrences. There were people, presents, cake, ice-cream, and games. Stories and pictures and a backyard barbecue. Sunshine and water balloons and fun. The only unusual happenings involved the mail.

The first piece of mail was a letter from Phoenix University in Arizona, letting Harry know he'd been accepted into their distance-learning courses.

The second piece of mail was delivered by owl at approximately four in the afternoon, between the end of Sirius' story involving one of his favorite pranks against someone who wasn't a Slytherin and the beginning of a massive celebratory water fight; it was Harry's NEWT scores. He'd passed all his tests – not that he'd been worried, mind. Well, not _much_ at any rate.

* * *

_August 13, 1998_

After several meetings among Snape, Lucius, and 'Mr. Sophismata', the three of them agreed that they were ready to begin the practical side of their plan. Lucius would take care of the first step – hiding Voldemort away 'for his health'. Harry didn't know_ where _precisely, only that he'd overheard 'Bethlam' at one point in their planning. _If that is where they're sending him, I have to hope that whatever psychologist is in charge of the case has a strong stomach_, was Harry's final thought on the matter.

The thirteenth of August was also the day Harry got to meet Eliza Rillikee. Within an hour of meeting her and discussing parts of his plans for BKE, they'd agreed on an annual salary. Her official job title, until further notice, would be 'Personal Assistant'.

* * *

_August 27, 1998_

"What do you mean, you've never heard of _Star Wars_?" Dudley was slightly astonished.

Harry had been talked into letting Fred and George meet his cousin, which explained why the three wizards were visiting the muggle who lived in Harry's building. It went without saying that, as purebloods who grew up without access to movies or television, the twins wouldn't have had the chance to see them, so Harry wasn't sure where Dudley's surprise came into things.

Of course, Dudley couldn't let the lamentable standing of the twins ignorance continue.

Of course Dudley owned copies of the movies in question.

Of course he also owned several seasons of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_, too.

Why did these facts seem to send a cold chill down Harry's spine? Maybe it was the unrestrained glee on Gred and Forge's faces. Maybe the A/C just needed fixed. Harry didn't really think it was that last bit, but he could hope, yeah?

* * *

_October 31, 1998_

Halloween of 1998 saw the first annual Black Kettle Enterprises costume party. Ron was invited, too, and showed up as Sir Lancelot. It was complete chance that had Hermione show as Guenivere.

Sirius was disqualified for claiming his animagus form as his costume.

Arthur showed up in an electrician's coverall – no one wanted to know how or why he'd managed to find one – ended up having one too many hits off the spiked punchbowl (and if Harry knew who it was that had spiked it, they'd be wearing tentacles for a week) and spent the remainder of the night trying to convince Harry that light bulbs made perfect additions to a curio cabinet.

Harry went as a pirate, though halfway through the night, he had to get rid of the eyepatch – the string kept getting tangled in his glasses.

Ted Tonks actually won the contest. His undying love of zombie movies transferred rather grotesquely over into knowing how to apply layers of fake skin and greasepaint like a professional effects artist.

* * *

**A/N2:** Major congratulations are in order to Rillikee, who managed to be the 2000th reviewer! I hope you like what I did with the character you said you wanted to 'play'. 

You know, back when I started this thing, I had no idea it would grow to the lengths it has, nor that it would have the following it does. I literally cannot express my astonishment at how much everyone seems to like this story, nor my amusement at how often I get messages that say something to the effect, 'So, when's the next update?' It never fails to put a smile on my face.

So, with that said, I guess I have to say: Reviews make me smile!


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer:** It belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling, not me.

**A/N:** Egads! Has it really been since March that I last updated this monster? Cripes! O.o I've gotta get with the program here. I still have just about as much left to say as has been said already before I can wrap this turkey! At this rate, I'm gonna be flippen' ninety by the time I'm done.

Here we have the second of two chapters of a series of scenes to jump the storyline ahead to the next main bit – a word of warning, several of these scenes are _not_ from Harry's point-of-view, just so ya know. And some of the segments are excerpts from assorted press releases and so on.

Also, I totally made up the phone number listed somewhere in this chapter, so… Please don't try calling it. If you do, I assume no responsibility for any repercussions you might face. The same goes for the web address I list. NEITHER IS REAL.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Time Passes Some More**

**First Official Meeting of BKE Board  
**transcript taken via dictaquill, video recording also available

Board Members Present:

Harry Potter, CEO  
Sirius Black, Head of Public Relations  
Arthur Weasley, President of R&D  
Nigel Smythwick, Acquisitions  
Ted Tonks, Legal Representative  
Eliza Rillikee, Personal Assistant to CEO  
Hermione Granger, (organizer)

Page One

**H. Potter:** I'd like to call this meeting to order – shut it, Sirius. Since this is the first official meeting, there shouldn't be any old business – I repeat it, Sirius, no jokes. It's ten o'clock in the morning of November 1, 1998. Um… (the sound of paper shuffling) Where's that thing from the contractors, Eliza?

**E. Rillikee:** I think you left it in your office. I have a copy here, though.

**H. Potter:** Thanks. Yeah, the contractor who flatted-out Dudley's space agreed to be placed on retainer for whatever we need him for. I think everyone's scouted out where they want their offices, yeah? Good. If you want them remodeled, Eliza's got the contact information.

**H. Granger: **I have a question, Harry.

**H. Potter:** Yeah?

**H. Granger:** What's my job title?

**H. Potter:** Good question! Now ask me one I can answer.

**T. Tonks:** If I may, just what is your job description?

**H. Granger:** Sirius, you even _try_ to open your mouth right now, I'll remove your appendix via your mouth.

**S. Black:** Fair enough.

**H. Granger:** Harry wants me to make sure everyone's on the same page once we start working on actual things, rather than just this organizational minutiae. Also wants me to oversee the publishing department.

**T. Tonks:** In that case, you're probably serving the function of the Chief Operations Officer, with a side of Publishing Head thrown in for good measure. While we're on the topic of assorted heads, might I make a suggestion, Harry?

**H. Potter: **Go ahead, Ted. Excellent costume last night, by the way.

**T. Tonks:** Thank you. You might want to consider hiring someone to do the books, a financial overseer. One of the biggest problems any large business can have is making sure the numbers add up properly. I've seen more than my share go under because no one was figuring the finances.

**H. Potter:** Did you have anyone in mind?

**T. Tonks: **Actually, I do. Good head with numbers, too. Has some experience with working in this capacity for large businesses, but is currently doing simple accountings for private individuals. Reginald Prewitt.

**A. Weasley:** Molly's cousin?

**T. Tonks:** The one and the same.

**H. Potter: **If you're recommending him, I say we offer him the position. All agreed?

(a round of assorted affirmative replies)

**H. Potter: **Anyone opposed to the idea? (silence) Good. I assume you know where to contact Mr. Prewitt, Ted?

**T. Tonks:** I do. I'll call on him this week and get back to you.

**H. Potter:** You do that. So… Um… I think I just ran out of notes.

**E. Rillikee:** No, I've got them. Up next, you wanted to know where we stood on the remodeling on Arthur's floor.

**H. Potter:** Knew that couldn't have been everything already. Thanks, Eliza.

**E. Rillikee:** It's what you're paying me for.

(Meeting continued for two hours, broke for lunch, and continued a further six hours.)

_

* * *

November 22, 1998_

Without much else to do, Dudley managed to finally finish up his secondary education through his online classes. He scraped by with a pass on everything, though it was narrowly so. And on completing his education, his cousin offered him what he thought would be a relatively easy job of keeping an eye on the muggle security cameras that covered the portions of the building that weren't under wards.

After a day of in-depth training by the specialist who'd installed or upgraded the system, Dudley settled into the job. After three days, he began to wonder if his cousin wasn't trying to kill him from boredom. He wasn't allowed to bring anything to do, like a newspaper, with him; he was supposed to watch the monitors, and that was _all_. Unfortunately, at this early junction, there wasn't anything to watch other than mostly-empty rooms and construction workers.

Bored as he was, Dudley stuck with it though. He knew Harry wouldn't hesitate to send him to jail if he didn't keep up his end of their agreement, and jail was something he absolutely _didn't_ want to see. Besides, once more people started showing up, he got a kick out of making up what they were saying to one another on the silent video monitors.

_

* * *

December 5, 1998_

For their six-month anniversary, Sirius and Rumor spent the evening at a nightclub in the London area. They had too much to drink, as evidenced by the quality of their hangovers the next morning, but that didn't stop Remus from managing to get some rather suggestive photos of the two of them in an intolerably cute position – snuggled together on Sirius' sofa.

By the end of the week, Sirius and Rumor had managed to collaborate on retaliatory action in order to get the werewolf to hand over the photos – they introduced him to one of Rumor's friends, a dancing instructor named Moira, with whom Remus found he had far more in common than he'd originally assumed.

_

* * *

Christmas 1998_

The first-annual BKE Yuletide party was held in a large, mostly-open room on the fourteenth floor of the building. There were somewhere in the neighborhood of forty people present, what with all the people who actually worked there and their guests. Jenn and Molly had collaborated – without Harry's knowledge – on the decorations and food, and Remus had learned from the Halloween party and was standing guard over the punchbowl. Though Harry was nominally in charge of the activities, Hermione and Eliza had taken most of that completely out of his hands, too. For his part, Harry was feeling more than just a little smug that he'd managed to surround himself with some of the most efficient planners that he'd ever heard of.

One of the activities actually made quite a bit of sense, at least as far as gift-giving was concerned. Harry didn't know whose idea it was, but someone had suggested a 'Secret Santa' project. It was pure happenstance that had Harry drawing Sirius' name out of the hat. He didn't find out, as was customary, until that night just who it was that had drawn _his_.

When he opened his present, he discovered something that looked somewhat like a muggle flashlight, but wasn't. Even still, it was vaguely familiar. On the inside of the top of the box, he discovered that Fred and George had drawn his name. Suddenly, he realized where he'd seen the odd _thing_ before.

It was a lightsaber. A bloody _lightsaber_. He found out quickly enough that it worked, too. Just like the ones in the movies did – and no, not like the props the actors used, but how those props and effects worked together. It was _real_.

Harry knew at that moment, that all else aside, he definitely had the beginnings of the right people for his vision for the future to become reality. _However, I still maintain that it probably wasn't a good idea to let them watch that ruddy series. Who knows what they'll want to attempt next?_

_

* * *

January 14, 1999_

Seen in the _Daily Prophet_ want-ads:

A new company in the London area is looking for enthusiastic, friendly, hardworking staff for all shifts. Ideal applicants will have a minimum of four OWLs and two NEWTs, one of which should be Muggle Studies. For a full list of open positions, their requirements, and entry-level salaries, please send an owl to H. Granger, Operations, Black Kettle Enterprises, London.

Found in the _London Times_ job listings:

Black Kettle Enterprises, a new company specializing in scientific research and technology, is looking for enthusiastic, friendly, hardworking staff for all departments. For a full list of positions, please visit ukoneworld.hah/joblistings001 or call 3493-29543 between 6 am and 9 pm M-F.

_

* * *

April 7, 1999_

Harry stood in his office, looking down at London. He was smiling faintly. _We did it. We're officially open. For better or worse, we're open._

Really, it almost felt anticlimactic, to have worked for so long, spending ever-growing amounts of time in getting things squared away, and now… _Now the _real_ work begins._

Harry's little smile grew into a full-blown grin. _Can't wait._

_

* * *

13 July, 1999_

_From Hogwarts Board of Governors  
Transcribed by J. Artien_

_To Hogwarts Headmaster_

_RE: Six-hundred and ninety-eighth correction to Hogwarts curriculum_

_It has come to the attention of this Governing Body that the massive influx of muggle-born and muggle-raised children over the past decades has created some confusion in the student body regarding Wizarding Customs and Culture. In order to correct this gross oversight, this Body has unanimously agreed that a course on Wizarding Customs and Culture beyond the level addressed in History of Magic be made available for all students, and mandatory for all muggle-originated students, beginning with the fall term._

_It is the decision of this Body that henceforth, no muggle-originated student shall receive their Hogwarts accreditation without completion of this course._

The missive was signed by all current members of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. A small article announcing the change to the curriculum was also printed in the _Daily Prophet_ the next day. The day after that, an article appeared in _The Quibbler_ which claimed this change was because the entire board had been replaced on the sly by flesh golems commanded by none other than the lead singer of the Weird Sisters.

* * *

Highlights of the Magical World (First Edition)

**Preface**

When I was eleven years old, I received an extraordinarily odd letter. It was handwritten on heavy parchment, had a wax seal, and lacked any postage. At the time, I didn't know that it hadn't been delivered with the rest of the morning post, but by owl instead. My family and I thought the letter inviting me to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was nothing more than a prank. It wasn't until a full week later that we learned that it was indeed real.

To say we were shocked by the explanation provided to us by Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, would be an understatement. My parents would have been the first to acknowledge that they didn't know everything there was to know about the world, but the very idea that something as fantastical as magic actually existed was so far out of our range of experience that we had no clue how to react. Honestly, I think I had an easier time accepting it than my mum and dad – I was still a child and still had a child's unwavering belief in nonsensical things like Father Christmas.

It took some doing, but eventually my family allowed me to attend Hogwarts. Over the course of the next seven years, I learned many things; not the least of which was the fact that there was an entire world alien to the one in which I'd lived my life to this point.

This volume exists to take someone who was once in my shoes and give them a general overview of the Magical World; how some things that the magical community takes for granted differentiate from the 'normal' world. Things I have mentioned above, such as owls delivering the mail, and separate schooling for magical children are but two of the dozens of topics which this book hopes to shed a little light on. Be forewarned, however, that this tome, weighty as it is, does not cover any topic in depth. If you find yourself wanting to know more about a particular topic, there is an extended list of additional references you can order by following the directions on the final page.

In conclusion, I would like to express my hopes that you do decide to continue learning about the differences in culture between the 'normal' and magical worlds, whether it be in a school like Hogwarts or on your own, perhaps as a family member or close friend of someone in the magical world.

– Hermione J. Granger  
August 10, 1999

* * *

Article appearing in the November 1999 issue of _Discover_ magazine:

**Shadows Lift from Dark Matter**  
_J. Tillworthy_

Black Kettle Enterprises, a relatively new company in the heart of London, issued a statement in late September that they had discovered the true nature of dark matter.

Thus far in science, dark matter had remained a hypothetical substance that did not interact with the electromagnetic spectrum as we understood it. Its presence was merely inferred by studying the effects of gravity on visible matter, such as can be observed around stars and galaxies. Dark matter and its energy component have been theorized to take up approximately 96 percent of the mass of the known universe, though until the aforementioned press release, the nature of this unseen majority remained unknown; the terminology 'dark' referring both to the inability of modern technology to sense its presence directly, and the gaping lack of knowledge available regarding what, precisely, it really is.

Black Kettle Enterprises, officially founded in April of this year, is comprised of a number of seemingly unrelated branches of science, ranging from astrophysics to psychology to technology and medicine and everything in between. Though the company is new, the majority of the researchers involved with them have been working on their independent projects for a number of years. Following their initial statement, the company has been deluged with requests for more information from the scientific community. They replied to these requests that a paper on the topic would be published in January. In addition to the queries posted from other corporations and researchers, they also received innumerable requests for more information from private individuals. Their reply was an invitation to select science magazines to attend the company's Halloween party. Of the twenty or so magazines invited, only four chose to attend; _Discover_, _Popular Science_, and the British magazines of _Physics World_, and _Laboratory News_.

On arriving at the building which houses the entirety of BKE, the individual representatives of the magazines who had accepted their invitation, myself included, were met in the lobby by a woman wearing an angel costume. The representative of _Popular Science_ asked if she was who we were to meet with. After a negative reply, she further explained that she is Jenn Kellerman, an independent computer programmer and family friend of the CEO of Black Kettle Enterprises. When asked why she was meeting us and not an actual representative of the company, she said that she had been 'shanghaied' into helping out for the party.

After verifying that she no longer had to wait for any one else, she led us to the fifth floor, where a costume party was in full swing. "What you are seeing," she said, "is the current entirety of all the people who work for BKE, excluding the Chief of Security." There were roughly two hundred people present, each wearing some form of costume. Before any of us could ask Ms. Kellerman anything further, we were approached by a man wearing a generic 'Indian brave' costume and a teenager wearing the costume of a Jedi Knight from _Star Wars_.

After introducing us to Sirius Black, the 'Indian brave', and Harry Potter, the 'Jedi', Ms. Kellerman took her leave. The first impression we had of Sirius Black was of an enthusiastically energetic and gregarious individual. He remained so throughout the entirety of the interview.

**Sirius Black:** Welcome, welcome! So glad someone could make it. Shall we find an empty table?

_Popular Science_** Representative:** Lead onwards, Mr. Black.

**S.B.:** Call me Sirius, please. This is my godson, Harry Potter.

(Black led us to a secluded table in the corner of the room which had a pleasant view of the ongoing Halloween party.)

**Potter:** So… Shall we get this over with? I told Jenn we'd be done early enough I could still study some tonight.

_Discover_**:** Mr. Black – I'm sorry. Sirius. Your company has made some intriguing claims regarding dark matter. Can you clarify these claims?

**S.B.:** Well, it's just like we said in that press-release. Dark matter and energy have been perplexing the scientific community for some years now. Our scientists have been working independently on figuring out what it was for a while; Black Kettle Enterprises simply brought them all together to continue pursuing this goal while allowing them access to the necessary funding they needed to start getting some answers.

_Laboratory News_ **Representative:** And what, exactly, are those answers?

(Black appeared somewhat taken aback by the question, and we could tell he was searching for a way to express what he wanted to say.)

**Potter:** May I, Sirius?

**S.B.:** Please.

**Potter:** It's energy, pure and simple. The only reason it's been termed 'dark' by the scientific community is because it was an unknown – a modern version of how the old cartographers would mark the edges of the map with 'here there be serpents' or some such. Even the 'matter' part of it is simply energy, as all matter, in its most basic definition is just a concentration of energy. What has been keeping science from unlocking its secrets thus far has been the fact that it isn't a single concentration of wavelength. Sounds, light, and so on all operate in a fixed set of available wavelengths. This isn't the case with dark matter; our scientists have discovered that dark energy masses at both extreme ends of the electromagnetic spectrum. This is why it hasn't been seen to interact with the other portions of said spectrum; because it's already a part of it.

(Before the teen could continue, a harried-looking young woman in a witch's costume interrupted him.)

**Potter:** Eliza?

**Eliza:** Sorry to interrupt, but I didn't think this could wait.

(She handed him a small slip of paper. Potter read it and sighed.)

**S.B.:** Never stops, does it, Harry?

**Potter:** Not that I can tell. Apparently, I've an urgent call from one of our other investors.

(Potter stood and smiled pleasantly.)

**Potter:** Sorry to cut and run so early, but this really does need my attention. Feel free to stay and enjoy the party. Insofar as our discoveries are concerned, everything will be published in a forthcoming paper from our publishing department, authored by the scientists involved in the process.

(After Potter left the table, Black laughed lightly.)

**S.B.:** Well, I suppose that's that. Like Harry said, stay for a while and enjoy the party.

_Physics World _**Representative:** Just like that?

**S.B.:** Well, yeah. He _is_ the boss – I work for him, not the other way around.

_Discover_**:** Isn't he still in school?

**S.B.:** Yeah, but he still knows what he wants. Just wish I'd been a bit more like him at his age. However, I'm neglecting my girlfriend and you would probably learn more by talking with some of the others here. I'm not a scientist, I won't even pretend to understand any of what my godson was just telling you, but there are others here who can answer your questions.

Following the advice of Mr. Black, those of us invited to the party dispersed into the crowd. After asking around, _Discover_ was able to locate one of the researchers responsible for their extraordinary claims of last month. On speaking with Nigel Smythwick, I received a similar explanation as had already been given by Mr. Potter on the duality of dark energy's electromagnetic footprint. Likewise, he also directed me to obtain a copy of the forthcoming paper for the 'hows and whys' behind this discovery.

The paper is set for release on January 1, 2000, and will be available to 'anyone who wants to read it'.

**

* * *

A/N2:** I know it's been for-fricking-ever since my last update, but, muses willing, I should be a bit more timely with the rest of the chapters for this fic now that I've managed to get the necessary bits out of the way to progress me into the next part of the story.

I hope this hasn't been forgotten – it's been a heck of a long, long time. Review and lemme know I'm still remembered, yeah?


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